


Critical Hit

by Skulls_surround_suns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 80s AU, I put so much research in this to make it as historically accurate as I could, Ive been told by my beta that it's super corny, John Hughes-esque, M/M, Underage Drug Use, but its just weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skulls_surround_suns/pseuds/Skulls_surround_suns
Summary: It’s the year 1986 and Lance just wants to do three things- 1. Hang out with his friends, 2. Maintain his high scores at the Dreamworks Arcade, and 3. Live life like a Hughes movie, not necessarily in that order. Everything’s going to plan until some asshole called ‘Firelord’ get’s the high score on Lance’s best game- Voltron: Legendary Defenders. And now? Well now, it’s on.





	Critical Hit

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my super awesome beta @le-serpentaire for looking this over and helping me work out the kinks!
> 
> If anyone knows Spanish and can correct my terrible google translated version of Spanish, please let me know.
> 
> Check out the playlist that goes with the fic, filled with 24 hand picked 80's hits- https://open.spotify.com/user/ehonkola/playlist/4cEePpu2EXYtzQkR9A6U2q
> 
> Enjoy some super cheesy gay 80's bullshit.

“Ahhhhh Fuck.”

 

The pixelated words **Game Over** flashed on the screen in front of Lance. He groaned and dug around his pocket for another quarter.

 

“Dude, come on, you’ve been playing for like, twenty minutes. Other people want to play too. Other people being me.” Hunk said from beside him.

 

Lance scowled at him. “Eat my shorts, man. I just need to get past this level.” Lance stuck his quarter into the game and watched as the screen lit up with the intro again. Behind him, Hunk sighed and shook his head

 

Lance skipped through the tutorial and got right into the game. He had played _Voltron: Legendary Defenders_ so many times he already knew what to do. He could probably do the whole first level with his eyes closed. Lance navigated his robot lion through the Galra base as the game sped up. He grit his teeth as Galra fighter jets started shooting at him from behind.

 

The whole concept of Voltron was rather ridiculous. Both him and Pidge had scoffed when it had first come out; the cheesy graphics and the weirdo story about giant space lions who need to save the universe from furry, purple aliens called the Galra had sounded like a game they would never play (I’ll stick to Space Invaders, thank you very much), but Hunk had persuaded them to try it out after hearing someone from school talk about it. Soon, Lance had become addicted. Now his name was always at the top of the scoreboard; the only person who could beat him was himself. And that was something Lance took a lot of pride in.

 

Lance quickly maneuvered to his left, desperately clutching the controls and shooting at one of the fighter jets that had appeared to his right. Beside him Hunk sucked air in through his teeth nervously.

 

“Lance, behind you-”

 

“Dude, I’ve got it.” Lance said through his clenched teeth. “I just need to get through this one. Last. part…”

 

Lance’s blue lion was shot down by one of the galra jets on his right.

 

“Fuck!” Lance let go of the controls as **Game Over** flashed on his screen again. He slammed his hands onto the sides of the machine. “Why must you do this to me Blue? I’ve only been good to you.” He moaned at the screen. He pressed his nose against it so he could feel the fuzzy static that made his hair stand on end.

 

“Lance...seriously? People are looking.” Hunk said, looking around at the other players at the arcade. Most of them were absorbed in their games, their friends cheering them on as one of the top 40 hits played on the stereo in the corner- Duran Duran maybe.

 

“I want them to know that they didn’t break me.” Lance lamented. Hunk scoffed.

 

“Oh look. It’s Pidge come to save me.” He said, pointing at a small girl with short fluffy hair and huge glasses that was walking up with a tray of sodas.

 

“Hey losers.” She said, handing Hunk one of the drinks and taking one for herself. She held one out to Lance. “Jeez, Lance, do you always have to be a _total_ freak show?”

 

Lance grabbed the drink from them and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

 

“I don’t know Pidge, do you always have to be a _total_ gremlin?”

 

Pidge flipped him off, but was grinning anyways.

 

Lance laughed. “Oh, obscene gestures from such a pristine girl.” He mocked playfully. Pidge elbowed him.

 

“I’m not _that_ pristine.” Pidge replied, grinning devilishly.

 

“And don’t we know it.” Lance said. “Isn’t that right, Hunk?”

 

“Mmhmm. That’s right.” Hunk grunted, concentrating on getting through level five of Voltron. His drink balanced precariously on the top of the game.  Lance reached up to hold it for him.

 

“Woah, watch your right.” Lance said, looking at the screen.

 

“Thanks.” Hunk said.

 

Lance winked, even though he knew Hunk couldn't see. Pidge snorted. “It’s not my fault that I’m the best at this game.”

 

“Okay,” Hunk said. He paused to jerk the handle to the side. “One, I was thanking you for handing me the drink, not your so called ‘expertise’, and two, I think it is your fault that you’re as good as you are. No one spends that many hours at this arcade without being a master at _something.”_

 

Lance frowned and crossed his arms. Then his expression relaxed and he turned to Pidge. “Oh my god, Pidge, did you hear that? Hunk thinks I’m the master!”

 

Pidge rolled her eyes.

 

“Shit.” Hunk said quietly. The **Game Over** screen flashed before him and he let go of the controls. The leaderboard appeared, with Lance’s Username **The Tailor** in the first place. Lance smiled smugly.

 

“And the Tailor wins again.” Lance said, handing Hunk his drink.

 

“That’s such a stupid name.” Pidge told him. Lance shrugged.

 

“They call me that because of how I _thread the needle._ “

 

“The only one who calls you that is you.” Pidge deadpanned.

 

“Oh eat shit.” Lance said, but he was smiling. “Hey, Hunk my man, what time is it?”

 

Hunk looked at his watch. “Six Thirty. Why?”

 

“Oh damn. I told my mom I’d be home by seven. I gotta jam guys. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” Lance said, walking away from Hunk and Pidge and out of the arcade.

 

“See you!”

 

“Bye.”

 

Lance turned around once more to look at the inside of the arcade. It was mostly empty, with a few kids playing on various games and lit with a confusing mix of flickering fluorescents and dim neon lights.

 

“Hasta la later losers. The master is out.” He called into the arcade. No one looked up. Pidge rolled her eyes.  Lance pushed out the door and headed home.

 

* * *

 

 

“And the master is back.” Lance pushed open the door to the arcade and walked in. Hunk sighed and Pidge scoffed.

 

“Seriously Lance? That’s like, so lame.” Pidge said. She took off her backpack and dropped it off behind the main desk.

 

“Can you take mine?” Lance asked, handing his school supplies over to her. “And, uhh, it is so not lame? I left that way yesterday, and so I must enter the same way. The people gotta know.” Lance made a sweeping motion at everyone in the arcade. No one acknowledged him.

 

“Sure they do.” Pidge said, unimpressed.

 

“You’ll see Pidge, it’ll be a thing.” Lance replied.

 

“I sure hope not.” Hunk murmured under his breath, but Lance chose not to respond.

 

“Okay Lance, we’re gonna go play Zaxxon or whatever and just leave you to do your ‘sweep’ thing.” Pidge said.

 

“You can meet us by Voltron when you're done.” Hunk added.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Lancey Lance has gotta make sure The Tailor is still at the top of the scoreboards.” Lance said.

 

“Yeah, sure. Do that. We’ll be- oh, you know. We’ll see ya.” Pidge said, grabbing Hunk and heading towards the backroom.

 

Lance smiled. There was nothing he liked better than being in the Dreamworks Arcade. He loved the smell- like sticky sweet Orange Julius spilled on the busy carpet and teenage BO (although that doesn’t sound so good, it reminded Lance of some great times). He loved the noise- various boops and beeps from games and the occasional swear quietly muttered or angrily yelled. He loved how it looked- the tacky carpeting and the neon glow of game screens. More than anything, he loved the memories. He had been coming here after school almost everyday for four years, since ‘82 when it had first opened, so there were memories to spare (not that Lance would ever choose to spare any of them).

 

One thing what he was particularly proud of was his ranking on the games. When he was talking to Pidge earlier he wasn’t exaggerating. He had gotten to the scoreboard on nearly every game (the ones that mattered anyways) and he wasn’t afraid to brag about it. It had become a habit to sweep the arcade and check to make sure he still retained his position.

 

Lance walked along the games, waiting until the scoreboards flashed on the screen until moving onto the next one. _So far, so good._ Pidge always said that this tradition of his was just a way to stroke his ego, and maybe it was, but these games were one of the few things he was really proud of. It may seem stupid, but he spent a lot of time (and money) working to get better at them, and he was proud of where it had got him.

 

Lance was almost done with his rounds when he saw Hunk and Pidge bent whispering over _Voltron_.

 

“Hey guys!” Lance called to them, waving and walking over. Hunk and Pidge stiffened and turned towards him, moving to conceal the screen from his sight. Lance narrowed his eyes.

 

“Hey...what are you guys trying to hide from me?” He asked, bending over to peer at the screen. Hunk moved to block him. “Hey! What’s your deal?”

 

“Dude...if we show you this...promise you won’t be mad.” Hunk said slowly.

 

“Show me what?” Lance asked. His friends shared a meaningful look. “Guys, what is it? Did someone move up on the scoreboard? ‘Cause I don’t care about that. No one could defeat me on _Voltron, this is my game-”_

 

Hunk and Pidge moved to the sides of the game, letting the screen flash before him. The scoreboard popped up and right there, right at first place-

 

“Who the _fuck_ is Firelord?!”

 

* * *

 

 

“But seriously guys, who calls themselves _Firelord?”_

 

“Lance, it’s been four days. You need to get past this.” Pidge said.

 

“Yeah dude, we’re worried about you.” Hunk said.

 

They were all in Lance’s room, Pidge laying on his bed, eating a box of twizzlers, Hunk sitting next to Lance, who was laying on the floor next to his bed lamenting at the loss of his title. The radio played softly from Lance’s desk and the streetlights provided a faint glow from outside his windows.

 

“We haven’t even gone back to Dreamworks since-”

 

“The Incident-”

 

“No Lance, we’re not calling it ‘The Incident’. So what, someone beat you-”

 

“So what?” Lance sat up, incredulous. “ _So what?!_ Pidge, I don’t know if you care, but this means alot to me. I _know_ it’s stupid, but I worked hard towards those scores. It’s one of the few things I haven’t, I don’t know, failed or ruined or lost. It’s one of the few things I’m _good_ at.”

 

“Oh Lance, you know that’s not true.” Hunk intercepted, but Lance continued.

 

“I worked really hard, and _Firelord,_ or whoever the fuck, was able to beat me, that much...it just sucks. How does someone even get to 750,000 on Voltron? I’ve never even seen him there before.” Lance knew he was over exaggerating and blowing this _wayyy_ out of proportion, but even though it wasn’t a big deal, it felt like it was.

 

“Lance, you’re not listening to me.” Pidge said. She sat up and pointed a twizzler at him. “What I say is- okay, you lost. What you need to do i find the motherfucker who beat you, and _beat him to a pulp.”_ Pidge took a bite of her twizzler, and after seeing the looks on Hunk’s and Lance’s faces, corrected “In the game of course.”

 

“Ahhhhh.”

 

“Okay, okay.”

 

“So...You in?” Pidge asked, swinging her legs off the bed and holding out her hand.

 

“Hell yeah I’m in. That sucker is going down.” Lance grabbed her hand and shook it. Then he stretched out his hand and put it between the three of them. Pidge followed suit and put her hand on top of his.

 

“Oh jeez.” Hunk said. He put his hand in the middle.

 

“Operation-”

 

“Waterlord!”

 

“...is now in action.”

 

* * *

 

 

After “The Incident” ( _yes Pidge, I am gonna call it that)_ it was nearly impossible to concentrate in school. How could Lance focus on ‘homeostasis in relation to the circulatory system’ when his rival, his nemesis, the bane of his existence-Firelord, could be sitting in the same room as him, maybe even _next to him._ Lance glared at Luke Greenleigh. _Could he be…_

 

“Lance?....Lance.”

 

Lance shook himself out of his reverie.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Lance, do you think you could pay attention? This is important stuff. I’m going over the next project.” Ms. Nelson, his Anatomy teacher said. Lance nodded in a noncommittal way, which was apparently enough for her as she turned back to her paper and continued to explain the project.

 

Lance tuned out again, more focused on how to find his adversary than to what the teacher was saying. Something about homeostasis, blah, blah, partners, blah blah, poster...Lance was already bored.

 

“Okay everyone, get with your designated partner and discuss which system you are going to focus on and compare schedules to see when you can work together. Remember, this is an _at home_ project. You can’t complete it all in class.” Lance heard Ms. Nelson call to the room. _Shit, I wasn’t listening._ Lance looked around the room to see if there was anyone who looked like they were headed in his direction. His eyes were pulled in the direction of a tall figure in a cropped red leather jacket, fingerless gloves and, _oh god,_ a mullet coming towards him. _Oh, no, no, no, no, no._

 

“Hey.” Keith said, stopping in front of Lance. “We’re working on Lymphatic system, okay?”

 

“Is that a question?” Lance asked, not caring to hide the venom in his voice.

 

“Nope.” Keith said, seemingly disinterested. “Do you have study hall A or B?” He asked.

 

“B.” Lance answered.

 

“Fuck. A.” Keith said.

 

“I guess we’ll have to work at each other's houses.” Lance said. Dread settled at the pit of his stomach.

 

“I guess so.” Keith replied, equally as displeased. “Meet me after school on Wednesday at the flagpole. We can go to my house the first time and your house the next?”

 

Lance nodded. “Sounds fine.”

 

“Great.” Keith said. The bell rang. Unable to go through a whole conversation with Keith without insulting him in some way or another, Lance responded.

 

“Spending time with you is anything but great.”

 

Keith sneered at him before picking up his bag and walking towards the door.

 

“Don’t be late.” He said, and then he was gone.

 

Lance clenched his fist. _Of course he gets the last word._

 

* * *

 

 

“So, have you found out who it is yet?” Hunk asked by way of greeting. Lance slammed his locker door shut.

 

“Damn. No.” He said, swinging his backpack onto his back.

 

“That sucks dude. I was thinking that maybe it was that guy Rolo? I always got bad vibes from him.”

 

“Yeahhhh, I don’t know. Rolo seems cool, man. Plus, he’s totally a pothead. No _way_ he could get those high scores.”

 

Lance and Hunk walked down the school halls as the students began to disperse, disappearing out the doors and going home. Pidge left one of the science classrooms and joined them.

 

“Whaddup. Are we on for Dreamworks?” She asked. Lance groaned.

 

“Uhhhg. I have to go to Keith’s house today. No can do, guys.”

 

Pidge stopped and held up her hand.

 

“What?! You’re going to Keith’s house and like, didn’t tell us?” She asked.

 

Hunk crossed his arms. “Yeah, dude. Not cool.”

 

Lance kept walking forward so he could push open the school’s front doors. In the distance he could see Keith waiting by the flagpole with his arms crossed. _In all black. Typical._

 

“Guys, I don’t see why this a big deal?” Lance said, spreading his arms.

 

“Um, obviously because you've had a crush on the guy since like, freshman year.” Pidge hissed. Hunk nodded in agreement.

 

“What?!” Lance, all but yelled. Several people waiting in front of the school turned and looked at him. Lance lowered his voice. “I don’t have a _crush_ on Keith. I-I have the exact opposite of a _crush_. I hate him! Him and his- his stupid mullet-”

 

“You’re only jealous because you can’t rock a mullet like he can.” Pidge said.

 

“What? No! He totally doesn’t rock it. And what about those stupid gloves he always wears?”

 

“Those are for his motorcycle.” Hunk said.

 

“His whAT?!”

 

“Voice crack.” Pidge pointed out.

 

“Pidge, seriously?” Lance asked. “Okay, this conversation is over. Actually, this conversation never happened. I am gonna go over to meet Keith, who I do not have a _crush_ on-”

 

“You don’t have to whisper every time you say ‘crush’. There’s no one else around.” Hunk gestured to the empty parking lot. Lance frowned at him.

 

“-And we are gonna work on our science project together.”

 

“And then make out.” Pidge said.

 

“And then make ou-...oh, Pidge, you asshole.”

 

Pidge stook out her tongue as Hunk pulled them through the double doors and in the direction of the bus stop. Lance took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for spending time with Keith. _Pidge has no idea what she’s talking about. I do not have a…. Not on Keith. Eww._ Lance peered over at Keith, who was leaning against the flagpole and bobbing his head to something on his walkman. Lance noticed a motorcycle in the parking lot nearby, red and black. He grit his teeth.

 

He pushed through the double doors. “Keith!” He called. Keith didn’t seem to notice, so he called to him again. Keith looked up and took his headphones out and crossed his arms. Lance made his way over to him.

 

“You’re late.”

 

Lance scowled in response. “So are we going to do this or not?”

 

Keith huffed. “I’ve got some books that we can use. Did you bring anything?”

 

“...I wasn’t aware we had to bring anything.” Lance answered meekly.

 

“Classic. Okay, well, do you have a car or do you need a ride?”

 

“...I need a ride.” Lance answered. He didn’t know why he felt...ashamed. It wasn’t like he wanted to _impress_ Keith. Anyways, he knew how to drive, his family just couldn’t afford another car.

 

Keith sighed. “Okay. I think I have an extra helmet. If not, I can just go without.”

 

“H-helmet?”

 

Keith started walking towards the motorcycle. “Yeah,” He said, pointing at the vehicle. “That’s my ride. You cool with that? I mean, you can walk instead.” Keith raised a challenging eyebrow.

 

Lance took a steadying breath. “Yeah, man, it’s cool. I ride on motorcycles all the time.”

 

Keith snorted. “Sure. Here.” He tossed Lance a helmet. “That’s my helmet. Put it on.”

 

“What about yours?” Lance asked, slipping the bulky helmet on. Keith just smirked.

 

“Be careful there, it might actually sound like you care about me.” Keith said. He swung his leg over the motorcycle, settling on the seat naturally. “Get on behind me.”

 

Lance stiffly swung his leg over the seat, settling much too close to Keith for comfort. Everything was unbearably _Keith,_ filling his senses until it was nearly overwhelming. All Lance wanted to do was get off the motorcycle, maybe strike a deal with Ms. Nelson so that he could work alone. He didn’t want to be here, with his chest against Keith’s back and Keith’s hair in his face and the scent of engine grease and cheap cologne in his nose.

 

“Hold on.” Keith instructed, revving the engine. Lance wrapped his arms loosely around Keith’s torso. “You’ll want to hold on tighter than that. I drive fast.” Lance could hear the smug smirk in his words. He didn’t adjust his grip.  “Suit yourself.”

 

Keith pushed off and began to pull out of the school’s parking lot. Lance immediately tightened his arms. He could feel Keith shaking with laughter even though he couldn’t hear it over the sound of the engine. As they pulled out of the lot and stopped at a light by the bus stop, he saw Pidge and Hunk pointing at him. He blushed. _I do not have a- a_ crush _on Keith._ He looked aways before they could notice him watching them. The light turned green and Keith moved forwards.

 

Once Lance had gotten over the initial terror of being on what was, in essence, a very heavy, very dangerous, motorized bicycle, he found himself to be enjoying it. His grip on Keith loosened, and if he focused on the wind in his face, the feeling of the mechanical purr moving from the motorcycle and throughout his body, on the exhilaration zipping through his veins like fire, he could almost forget that Keith was there at all. (Almost)

 

All too soon, they came to a stop near a house close to the edge of town. It was one story, but spread out in a very 70’s fashion. The lawn was yellow and there was a sycamore tree shedding its leaves all over the pavement. It didn’t seem like yard work was anyone’s specialty. Keith shut off the engine and hopped off, holding it until Lance was safely on the ground. His legs wobbled, even though it had only been about a 15 minute ride. He stumbled embarrassingly to the side as Keith pushed his bike into the garage.

 

Lance looked around. It wasn’t actually that far from his neighborhood, now that he thought about it. He recognised the street as the one running parallel to Pidge’s house.

 

Keith held the garage door open above his head. “Coming?”

 

Lance had to stoop to walk under the door. Keith dropped it and it hit the ground with a band. Keith led Lance through a back door and into his kitchen.

 

“Take your shoes off.” He advised. “We can work in the dining room or my room, whichever is fine, but Shiro might get here soon and interrupt us if we are in the dining room.” Keith said.

 

“Your room is fine.” Lance said absentmindedly as he looked around. Keith’s house was the opposite of Keith himself. Everything was in light colours and their were framed pictures of Keith as a baby with an unfortunate bowl cut on the walls. It smelled faintly of mac and cheese with something spicy and fermenting that Lance didn’t bother guessing what it was, as well as cat hair, so Lance peered around trying to spot the elusive feline. “Wait, Shiro’s your brother? Shiro the senior?”

 

“Yeah- well, he’s not a senior anymore. He graduated last year. But yeah, he’s my brother. We live here together, me, him and my cat.” Keith said. He turned down a hallway and stopped at a plain white door.

 

“And your parents?” Lance asked, looking for the cat. He thought he might’ve seen something black dart into the room at the end of the hall….

 

Keith stiffened. “Err...no parents. It’s just us.” He said, awkwardly. Lance stopped his search for the cat and turned his attention on Keith.

 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t-”

 

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. I don’t know why you would.” Keith said, refusing to look at him. Lance was curious, but decided not to pursue it any further. Keith opened the door and led Lance into his room.

 

Keith’s room was even more unexpected than the rest of his house. It was...actually a lot like Lance’s room. Posters were pasted on the walls, along with christmas lights strung out. He had an assortment of cacti on his dresser, as well as a messy shuffling of paper and old homework with aliens doodled into the margins. Lance looked at each poster- Star Wars, Star Trek, wow, Keith really had a thing for space, and _wait-is that…_

 

“Is that a Voltron poster?” Lance asked. He leaned over Keith’s bed (black bed sheets, jeez) and peered at the poster. It displayed all of the lions, but instead of the black lion, it was the red lion front and center.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Keith said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “The red lion’s my favorite.”

 

“Oh, puh-leaze. The red lion sucks. Blue all the way.” Lance said. Lance hadn’t known Keith was such a...a.. nerd. Although he still didn’t like him, it did make him a bit more...approachable? Less of a dickweed? Everything Lance had ever thought about Keith was being rewritten in his mind (not that he thought about him a lot).

 

“Don’t say that about red. I always play her.”

 

“And I always play blue. And look who’s the master.” Lance said. Keith was smiling and Lance realized it was the first time Lance had ever seen him genuinely smile. And it was at _him. And that’s a train of thought I am not gonna follow…_

 

“The master huh? What’s your game name?” Keith asked.

 

“My what?”

 

“Y’know, the name you put on the scoreboards? If you’re ‘the master’,” Keith did finger quotes, “Then you’ve got to at least be on the scoreboard.” He said.

 

Lance squawked. “Of course I’m on the scoreboard. I’m The Tailor!”

 

“The Tailor? Oh so...you’re actually…good.”

 

“Wow, Keith, did I just hear a compliment?” Lance teased.

 

Keith scowled. “ _No. Besides,_ if I remember correctly, you’ve been beat.”

 

“I’ll get my spot back,” Lance insisted. It was a bit of a sore topic, so he decided to change the subject. “Let’s just get started.” Lance said, putting his hands up defensively. Keith sat on the floor with a ‘hrumph’. Lance started to sit on the bed, but opted for the floor across from Keith.

 

“So, I think we should just collect a bunch of research first and then we can use that to answer the questions and make a poster.” Keith said.

 

“Yeah, sure. So what books did you bring…”

 

Keith pulled out the books he had checked out from the library. Lance pulled one closer and took out a piece of binder paper. “Keith, do you think you can play some music or something? You _do_ have, like, a radio or a cassette player, right?”

 

Keith frowned. “I do, but...doesn’t that distract you?”

 

“Nope. Music helps. At least for me. I’ll get things done way faster with music.”

 

“I don’t know…”

 

“ _I can leave sooner!”_ Lance sing-songed.

 

Keith was already up. “Uhhh, The Smiths or The Cure?” He asked, holding up two cassettes. “By the way, you have to leave by seven anyways, I have to go to work then.”

 

“Uhhhg, seriously, Keith. Don’t you have any good music?”

 

“The Smiths _is_ good music.” Keith sounded confused and a little bit affronted.

 

“No, I mean like Michael Jackson, or David Bowie or...or..Prince!” Lance said excitedly. He couldn’t believe that Keith liked Morrissey. Actually...of all people, Keith _would_ be the most likely to enjoy something that’s so...emo.

 

“Those are all completely different! And I _like_ Bowie!” Keith said. Lance could tell he was getting angry at him for bagging on his music taste.

 

“That’s not the point,” Lance explained. “The point is that you can _dance_ to it.”

 

“You can dance to Morrissey.” Keith pouted. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

“Here. I think I’ve got…. Aha!” He waved a banged up cassette in the air. “Tears for Fears. Not quite dancing, not quite emo. It’ll do.” He shoved it into Keith’s cassette player and hit play. The steady beat of _Shout_ came through the speakers.

 

Keith furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard this.”

 

“Seriously? Do you _ever_ turn on the radio?”

 

“I don’t have a radio.” Keith said.

 

“Oh.” Lance didn’t really know what to say to that. He was surprised that conversation had flowed so easily between him and Keith, with now being the only awkward lull. He pulled the book onto his lap before twirling his pencil. “I guess we should get started.”

 

Keith just nodded.

 

The two boys sat in Keith’s room for two hours in silence, with Tears for Fears as the only source of noise. Shiro stuck his head in at around 5, but once he saw that Keith had someone over he quickly left. Only once the small hand of the clock was at 6.45 and Lance had blown through both sides of 2 pieces of paper, did Keith stop, set his book down and take out the cassette, handing it back to Lance.

 

“I’ve got to go soon.” He said. When he noticed Lance wasn’t really paying attention, he snapped his fingers in front of Lance’s face.

 

Lance shook his head. He hadn’t realize how absorbed he had become in his work, but once he had stopped he had to regain his focus on the world around him.

 

“Lance, I’ve got work. You need to leave.” Keith said.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll just..” Lance started packing up his supplies- books, pencils, notebooks- into his bag. He took the cassette from Keith.

 

“Y’know,” Keith said. He seemed uncharacteristically bashful, which drew Lance’s interest. “I actually kinda liked your music, uh, what’s it called?”

 

“Tears for Fears.” Lance supplied. He thought maybe he should do something, like smirk or make a teasing comment, but he was hesitant to shatter this unusual moment. “I- I have other ones you might like. I could...I could lend them to you?” He offered instead. Keith seemed equally surprised by his response.

 

“I- I’d like that!” Keith said. Lance noticed that he had dimples when he smiled. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

 

“Okay. I can bring a few next time we… work together.” Lance’s voice felt weird and halted and his face felt hot. He didn’t know why he was feeling so awkward. Maybe because this situation- the odd softness in Keith’s voice, the softness in _Lance’s,_ and the severe lack in harsh words and biting comments. Lance had always thought his and Keith’s relationship was fun, it was a strange dynamic where they fought and teased, but it was never really _real_. Lance was feeling like he might like this more.

 

“Yeah, that sounds...good. Next week, same time? Your house, okay?”

 

“Yeah. Alright. It’s pretty busy over there.” Lance warned.Keith shrugged.  He led him out of his room and back to the living room. Lance could see Shiro in front of the stove, swaying to soft music playing through his headphones. Keith grabbed his helmet and called to Shiro. Shiro turned around and nodded. They went through the backdoor into the garage and Keith pulled open the door before wheeling his bike out.

 

“By the way, where do you work?” Lance asked. Keith kicked up the kickstand and slung his leg over the seat. He put the helmet over his head, his hair sticking out from underneath it.

 

“I work at the arcade.” Keith said with a grin. “Dreamworks. You heard of it, _Tailor?_ ” He revved his engine before drove down the street, leaving Lance standing in the empty driveway gaping after him. Shiro stuck his head out the garage door.

 

“Did he leave already?” He asked.

 

“Yeah,” Said Lance. “He’s gone.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, how was Keith’s?” Hunk whispered, leaning over to Lance’s desk. Pidge’s head perked up and she leaned in from behind him.

 

“Shhh, guys,” said Lance, pointing at the board. Mr. Nealy was giving a presentation and had his back turned. “We need to learn about…” Lance craned his neck to see what Mr. Nealy was writing- he hadn’t been paying attention previously, instead opting to draw motorcycles in the margin of his notes. “Similes and metaphors.”

 

“Pu-leaz, Lance, when have you ever cared about _similes and metaphors_?” Pidge huffed a laugh under her breath. Hunk snorted.

 

“I do too!” Lance argued quietly.

 

“The only metaphor you care about is how ‘Keith’s eyes are like the midnight sky’.” Hunk chuckled. Lance immediately blushed.

 

“That’s a simile, but the point still stands.” Pidge said, trying to keep from laughing as she poked his cheek. Lance tried to hide his blush.

 

“That is- where did that even- I have _never_ said something like that.” Lance tried to defend himself, but his usual ‘effectiveness’ was stunted by the fact that he could only whisper.

 

“Uhh, yeah you did.” Hunk said with a smug raised eyebrow.

 

“I think it was ‘and how is it fair that Keith has such nice eyes. _They’re midnight blue_.’” Pidge crooned.

 

Lance crossed his arms. “I did _not._ And it was obviously an insult he probably-” Lance’s defense was cut short by Mr. Nealy.

 

“Mr. Fuentes, Ms. Holt, Mr. Garrett. Something you’d like to share with the class?” He said, shooting them a challenging look. Lance gulped.

 

“Not at all Mr Nealy.” Lance said quickly. Hunk nodded furiously. Mr. Nealy narrowed his eyes.

 

“I don’t want to catch you talking again, Mr. Fuentes.”

 

Lance bristled. “Of course sir.” He hated how he Mr. Nealy always seemed to single him out. It wasn’t _fair._

 

Mr. Nealy seemed to accept that and turned back to the board. Lance felt a tap on his back and then a small piece of paper dropped onto his desk from behind him. He picked it up and unfolded it.

 

**Have you ever noticed how the light shines off of Nealy’s head?**

 

Lance snickered as he looked at Mr. Nealy’s bald head.  Then he felt another poke to his back and another note tumbled to his desk.

 

**You’re gonna tell us about Keith’s later**

 

Lance felt Pidge’s breath on the back of his neck as she whispers in his ear. “And that’s a threat.”

 

Pidge could be scary sometimes.

 

* * *

 

 

“So? Spill?” Hunk said, once they were let out of the classroom. Student’s flooded the halls, some heading off campus for lunch and some heading to the cafeteria. Lance, Pidge and Hunk went straight to their spot, their favorite teacher’s classroom.

 

Hunk held open the door for Pidge and Lance as they entered. Mr. Coran, their favorite teacher, was in the back, stapling posters to the wall. He was an eccentric man, with orange hair and a curly mustache and an accent that showed he was certainly from out of town. He taught Psychology, a class that was mysteriously still part of the school’s curriculum, even after certain classes like typing and art had been cut.

 

“Ahh, Lance, Hunk, number five,” He said, turning towards them, “I’ll be out in a second.” The group waited as he packed his things into a bag and left the room through a back door, humming a strange song to himself.

 

“Okay, Lance, now you have to talk.” Pidge said.

 

“Why are you even interested in this stuff. You hate learning about my personal life.” Lance said, in a last stitch effort to put off the conversation. He didn’t know why it mattered to him, not much had happened at Keith’s and it wouldn’t be hard to tell them that they had taken notes for a while, that he and Keith had actually gotten along, that they have the same interests and that when Lance rode on the motorcycle he didn’t know if his heart was beating out of exhilaration from the ride or the fact that his arms were around Keith’s waist. _Oh, so that’s why…_

 

“I’m not. I just thrive off chaos.” Pidge replied.

 

Lance put his hands up. “Okay, okay, I see that this is all very interesting to you and that Hunk, you care about me, and Pidge, you-” Lance made finger quotes, “-’thrive off chaos’ and, in short, I surrender.”

 

“So, what’s he like under his dark and brooding, shoulder pads and biking gloved exterior?” Hunk said, excitedly. Lance appreciated how much Hunk cared, but sometimes he thought he might be _too_ nosy. He read Lance’s _diary,_ for Pete’s sake.

 

“Okay, one, he doesn’t even need shoulderpads.” Lance said. “His shoulders are already perfect.”

 

Pidge snickered. _“His shoulders are perfect!”_ She mocked under her breath.

 

“Bite me, Pidge.” Lance paused to collect his thoughts. “He’s uhh, he’s kind of a nerd. He has a bunch of star wars, star trek posters in his room. Even _Voltron._ He mains the red lion though, so…” Lance shrugged, as if that statement was self explanatory. Hunk and Pidge nodded in understanding. “He actually works at the arcade. The late shift- seven ‘till closing.”

 

“Oh, I think we’ve actually seen him there before. He arrived a little bit after you leave.” Pidge said, turning to Hunk for confirmation. Hunk nodded.

 

“What?! And you didn’t tell me?!” Lance yelled.

 

“I thought you didn’t care?” Pidge teased.

 

“I- I don’t. I mean, he’s my rival! What if he’s..” Lance gasped for dramatic effect. “ _Firelord.”_

 

“Actually, that’s a good point.” Hunk said.

 

“He does have some pretty good reflexes. Have you ever seen him play Defender? Man’s a beast.” Pidge added.

 

“Defender?” Lance scoffed. “That game’s like, so old.”

 

“Only like...five years Lance.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to ask him what his screen name is next time we hang out.”

 

“Hang out?” Pidge asked, grinning.

 

“Work together!” Lance corrected, but the damage had been done.

 

“Lance and Ke-eith, sitting in a tree-” Pidge singsonged.

 

“Stop!” Lance screeched, diving over to them and planting his hand over her mouth. “Eww! You licked me!”

 

“Pidge, no licking. Lance, sit back down. Am I gonna have to crack some skulls?” Hunk said.

 

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Lance said.

 

“That’s true. But Iverson would, and he’s on Hall patrol today.”

 

That quieted Lance and Pidge immediately. Hunk continued: “Pidge, stop teasing Lance.” Lance stuck his tongue at her. “Lance, stop acting 12-”

 

“Out of ten!”

 

Hunk sent him a glare. “And spend some time re-evaluating your whole _thing_ with Keith. I’m not saying you like him-”

 

“Although you totally do.”

 

“I’m just saying, think on it.” Hunk took a bite of his sandwich and spoke with his mouth full. “Just think on it.”

 

Lance pouted and opened his container of leftovers. Thankfully, Pidge steered the conversation towards the new game promised to come out in 1987, _Streetfighter_ , and how at home games like Nintendo are soon going to replace going to the arcade. Hunk argues that it’ll never happen, that arcades are forever and things like nintendo could never fully replace the ‘social excitement of an arcade’. Although Lance has an opinion (Pidge is right, at home games are more of an investment and you can just invite your friends over), he doesn’t really participate in the conversation. Instead he nibbles on his leftover _ropa vieja_ and thinks about Keith, specifically, why he hates him. It troubles Lance that he can’t find one real reason.

 

* * *

 

 

It was the next Wednesday, the last class of the day. Lance couldn’t stay still, his fingers were tap tap tapping on the fake wood of his desk, and he couldn’t stop his leg from jiggling. They were taking a test, and Lance knew everything he needed to know, but he hadn’t filled out any answers. He was just to jittery and he couldn’t concentrate on his paper. The room seemed too loud- A classroom is never silent- one can hear the gears turning in students’ brains almost as audibly as one can hear their pencils scraping the binder paper. The teacher moved, feet slapping on the linoleum floor. The grind of the sharpener come to life was over almost as soon as it started. On the other side of the room, someone cracked their knuckles. Lance yawned and tried to concentrate on his test, but his mind was filled with one thing, repeated over and over.

 

_Keith is coming over, Keith is coming over, Keith is coming over_

 

He was anxious, more anxious than he knew he should have been. There was something about him, something that made Lance want to impress him. Lance didn’t even _like_ Keith. Sure, he didn’t hate him anymore, but it still didn’t explain why he cared about what Keith thought so much. Really, he was _nervous._ What if his room wasn’t clean enough and Keith thought he was a slob? What if Keith is allergic to cats (Wait, didn’t he have a cat?)? What if Lance’s sister, Ri, tells Keith embarrassing stories? _Oh, god, she has so much dirt on me!_

 

“Fifteen minutes. I hope you’re all at least halfway done.” The teacher droned from her desk. Lance slapped his face a little bit, more of a symbolic ‘wake up’ than something that actually worked. _Focus, focus._

 

Fifteen minutes.

 

Fifteen _excruciating_ minutes.

 

Lance finished his test, messily, and probably all wrong, but it was finished. As soon as the bell rang he was out of his seat, and out the door. He darted to his locker, got his things and speed walked through the school’s front doors. He could see Keith already waiting by the flagpole (how he got there before Lance is a mystery in itself). He wasn't wearing those stupid gloves or his stupid leather jacket, just a windbreaker (why he would get one in black is another mystery), and it was _doing things_ to Lance.

 

“No jacket.” Lance said, by way of greeting. Keith took out his headphones and wrapped them around his walkman. Lance could have sworn he heard Tears for Fears playing.

 

“My bike’s in the shop.” Keith said. “You take the bus, right?”

 

“Yeah, with Pidge and Hunk. Do you mind if we sit with them? We’ll have to start heading over there before it leaves. How did you get to school?” Lance knew he was rambling, but for some reason he couldn’t stop.

 

Thankfully, Keith didn’t seem to care. “It’s fine, and uh, Shiro drove me.” He explained as they begin rushing to the bus. They made it right before the doors closed.

 

“Hey Lance.” The driver said.

 

“Hey Sal.” Lance responded. He shoved his money into the slot, watching it eat it up. He waited for Keith to do the same. It took him a few times.

 

“C’mon. We sit in the middle.” Lance said. He gestured to Pidge and Hunk, who had stopped talking and were staring at them. “It’s perfect popularity equilibrium. Not in the front with the nerds and dweebs, but not in the back with the floozies and bohunks.” He explained. Keith nodded. If Lance didn’t know better, he would say Keith was overwhelmed. But Keith was never overwhelmed, he handled everything with suave and cool indifference. It was part of what annoyed Lance so much about him.

 

“Hey, Keith.” Pidge said. “First time?” They were grinning in a way that made Lance think that perhaps this was a mistake.

 

“Like a virgin, hey, touched for the very first time.” Hunk sang.

 

“Madonna, nice.” Lance took the seat across the middle aisle from them. Keith sat next to him.

 

“So, off to Lance’s house?” Hunk asked.

 

“Yeah, we’re working on a project.” Keith responded.

 

“I’m sure that’s not all you’re working on.” Pidge muttered.

 

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Lance protested.

 

“Nothing, nothing. So, Keith.” Pidge’s infamous grin was back. “We hear you sure know your way around a joystick.”

 

Lance choked. Keith’s face was completely red.  “Pidge!” Lance squeaked.

 

Pidge just laughed. “What, I’m talking about Voltron. _Obviously._ Jeez Lance, get your mind out of the gutter.” Pidge’s smile was wicked.

 

“Oh, stop teasing Lance.” Hunk said.

 

“Thank you Hunk.”

 

“Keith’s the new one here.” Hunk finished.

 

“Hunk! I’m sorry for my friends.” Lance directed the last bit at Keith.

 

“He’s lucky he has us.” Pidge says. Keith turned to Lance and Lance shrugged and nodded.

 

“As embarrassing and dumb as they are-”

 

“Hey!” Pidge and Hunk chorused.

 

“I still love them.”

 

“Aww, I love you too.” Hunk said. Then he smirked. “I wish I could give you a hug all the way from here. Keith, could you hug him for-”

 

“No!” Lance squeaked. “That won’t be necessary.” He looked out the window. “Hey look, here’s my stop. By guys! C’mon Keith.”

 

Keith got out of the seat and stood back as Lance got out.

 

“Lance, are you gonna come to the arcade later?” Pidge asked as Lance started walking down the aisle and off the bus.

 

“Maybe, we’ll see.” Lance yelled back. When they had finally gotten off the bus and it was silent, Lance saw Keith exhale and rub his face.

 

“Haha, sorry for my friends. They can be kinda-I mean, I love them, but for other people-”

 

“No, you don’t need to apologise.” Keith said. “Your friends seem great. I just...don’t really like places that are so crowded and noisy. It makes me feel really uncomfortable.”

 

“Oh.” Lance said. He huffed an awkward laugh. “Then you must _hate_ school. Even more than me.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Lance and Keith walked in silence for a bit. Lance didn’t really know what to say. He had always thought that Keith just...didn’t care. He always did so well at everything, but he did it so easily and so...cooly. Lance never thought that it was a lot worse for him than he showed.

 

“Well, I mean. School sucks a lot. I have trouble too. I have uh, what’s it called, ADD. With hyperactivity. So doing work can be kinda hard ‘cause I get distracted and restless really easily.”

 

“But last time we worked on the project you seemed really focused.”

 

“Yeah...that kinda confused my diagnosis. It’s hyperfixation. I just become super focused on something and forget everything around me like eating or sleeping. It’s not always school work toon, well, usually it’s not, so...”

 

“Ohh.”

 

They continued in silence for a bit longed. Lance’s icebreaker, unsurprisingly, hadn’t really worked.

 

“Well, this is me.” Lance said once he had gotten to his house. It was pretty basic, an average sized two story with a driveway and a green front lawn and a maple tree sprouting from the sidewalk in front of the house.

 

“Cool. Uh, Lance?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks for telling me that. It made me feel...better.” Keith said.

 

“Oh. Yeah, haha, I knew it would.” Lance said even though he hadn’t.

 

“Plus, I always just thought you were annoying on purpose, but now I know better.” Keith said with a teasing grin.

 

“Hey! My amount of annoying has nothing to do with my ADD! It’s always on purpose.” Lance said. He couldn’t help but feel better though. He liked this Keith- imperfect and nice. It was refreshing. Lance stopped once he reached the door. “Quick warning, my house in general can be pretty loud. I have a _lot_ of siblings and my mom kind of just perpetually plays salsa music. I’ll try to keep everyone out of my room though.”

 

“Thanks.” Keith said. He looked nervous.

 

Lance opened the door. “Mama, ‘toy en casa!”

 

“Lancito! Por fin! Estas aqui! Puedes ver Anton? Necesito cocinar la cena.” Lance’s mother called from the kitchen.

 

“No, Mama, tengo a Keith aquí!” Lance called back. “Haz que Ben lo haga.”

 

Lance turned to Keith. He looked even more nervous than he had before. “C’mon, let’s go before she makes me do anything else.” Keith nodded. Lance led Keith past his kitchen, with veggie magnets on the fridge and his mom swaying her hips to Celia Cruz as she poured rice into a pot, past the TV room, where Lance’s abuelita was watching _Sol de Batey_ on their television set, and finally up the stairs to the second story. Before Lance could get Keith into his room ( _no- wait- don’t say it like that_ ), one of his sisters stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway in a fluffy pink bathrobe and her hair in curlers. Along with her came the scent of Love’s Baby Soft perfume. Lance heard Keith cough behind him.

 

“Ahhhh, Lance!” She raised her eyebrows and looked Keith up and down. Keith fidgeted next to Lance. “Veo que trajiste a tu novio a casa.”

 

Lance flapped his hands wildly, completely flustered and showing it. “¡Ri! ¡Para! Él no es mi-” Lance lowered his voice, even though he was pretty sure Keith couldn’t speak Spanish. “ _Novio_.

¡No digas eso!”

 

“Lo que sea. Solo me estoy burlando.” Ri sighed.

 

“Lo sé.” Lance pinched his fingers together. “Me tienes hasta el último pelo.” He said with affection. Ri rolled her eyes, but stood to the side as Lance shuffled past her, ushering Keith along with him.

 

“Hey!” Ri said, before they could disappear into Lance’s room. “It was nice to meet you.”

 

“Uhhh…” Keith said, before Lance elbowed him. “It was...nice to meet you too.”

 

Ri winked before going into her room across from the bathroom, leaving the lingering perfume scent in the hall.

 

“What was that?” Keith asked.

 

“More like _what_ was that.”

 

“That’s what I-”

 

“That was my sister, Riza. She’s a year younger than me. You can just ignore her.” Lance opened the door to his room. He had cleaned it the night before, so he knew it should be ‘up to code’ so to speak. The curtains were closed, so he opened them, casting light on his posters-  star wars, Voltron (Blue Lion, obviously), Michael Jackson poster (pre ‘84 nose job) and lastly, The Breakfast Club movie poster (stolen from the movie theater he used to work for once the movie had finally left the theaters). He had cleared off his desk from all the shit that usually cluttered it, leaving only his radio- cassette player hybrid and a few textbooks. Next to his window was a telescope, a crappy version Lance had gotten for his thirteenth birthday before his dad knew if he was responsible enough to own an expensive one. It was the first thing Keith went over to.

 

“Oh, telescope. Cool.” He said softly, bending down to look at it better. “I always wanted one of these when I was younger. I’ve been saving up for a real one- er- more expensive one.”

 

“Cool. I haven’t really used it in a while. It’s kinda crappy.” Lance said, slinging his backpack onto his bed. He plopped down onto the blue sheets, watching Keith curiously look around his room. He was bend over Lance’s desk, looking at his Breakfast Club poster. He looked so excited, Lance wondered if he had ever done something like this before. Keith never seemed to have many friends. Maybe this was his first time in a friend’s room. Not that Keith and Lance were _friends._

 

“S-sorry.” Keith said, straightening out. Lance didn’t really know what he was apologising for, but he didn’t say anything. Keith cleared his throat. “I-uh- I didn’t know you were a Breakfast Club fan.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Anything John Hughes, really. I like to think of myself as a real life Jake Ryan.” Lance puffed out his chest and pushed his hand through his hair. Keith snorted.

 

“Yeah, right. You’re more like an Anthony Michael Hall.”

 

Lance put his hand on his chest and pretended to be offended. “Keith You wound me. Wait- you actually know what I’m talking about!”

 

“I don’t live under a rock.” Keith said. “Anyways, we should get to work.”

 

Even though working on their stupid project was the last thing Lance wanted to do in that moment, he saw that Keith was smiling, so Lance counted the day so far as a win and began to pull out his notes.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance was right about being uninterrupted- for _his_ family. At Keith’s house they had only been interrupted once, and only for a few minutes. But it had only been two hours and already his mom had brought Anton into Lance’s room and set him to work on a jigsaw puzzle (‘As long as he’s in your sight.” “As long as he’s not bothering me.”), he sister had come in to pick up her Bo Po nail polish that she had left in his room earlier (along with all the Bubblegum Pink nail shaped peel-offs that she had left on Lance’s floor), and lastly, around six, his dad coming home from the hospital and bringing up some fresh baked _pastelitos._ Lance’s house was never silent and although he had gotten used to it, Keith sure wasn’t. He didn’t seem uncomfortable per se, it just seemed like he didn’t know what to do with all of the casual affection displayed between family members (plus he was completely mind boggled when Lance told him that there were seven family members living under the one roof).

 

At around six, when Lance’s dad brought in the _pastelitos_ , Lance decided to call it.

 

“Keith, d’you wanna stop. We’ve been working on this for a while, we might as well take a break.” Lance had stopped being able to focus and desperately needed something else to look at besides a biology book and lines paper any longer. His usually messy scrawl had gone from decipherable chicken scratch to _unreadable._

 

“Yeah, sure. Uh, what do you wanna do? I don’t have to leave for another...thirty minutes.” Keith said. Then he seemed to skip over his words as he said quickly: “But I can just leave now if you want. I just need to find my-”

 

“Calm down, mullet. Eat a pastelito. We can, uhhh- we can play monopoly.” Lance said, spotting the only board game he kept in his room.

 

“Really Lance, aren’t we enemies enough?” Keith asked, but Lance could tell he was joking.

 

“Hah! So you _do_ admit we’re rivals!”

 

“No, that was just some stupid thing you made up.”

 

Lance pouted. “Fine. So, acquaintance-”

 

“Friendly acquaintance I hope.”

 

“ _Friendly_ acquaintance. What do you wanna do?”

 

“I don’t know.” Keith said. His brow was furrowed in deep thought. “What do you usually do with your friendly acquaintances?”

 

Lance sighed. “Well, I don’t know. Usually with Hunk and Pidge we just sit around and talk. We spend a lot of time at the arcade-”

 

“Shit- the arcade. How far is it from your house?” Keith said, sitting up straight. He began to get up, grabbing his windbreaker and shoving books and papers into his backpack.

 

“I don’t know. It should take you about ten minutes on your bike.” Lance said. He moved some of Keith’s stuff towards him, which he quickly shovelled into his back.

 

“I don’t have my bike!” Keith cried in panic. “If I’m late I’m definitely gonna get fired. I already waste too much time on the job!”

 

“Oh...oh fuck! It’s like, a forty five minute walk! Shit! Uhhh, I can see if my dad can give you a ride?” Lance offered. Keith had opened the door and was already tromping down the stairs.

 

“Oh, yes, that would be great. What time is it?”

 

“¡Mamá! ¿Que hora es?” Lance called.

 

“Seis quince.” Lance’s mom called back. “Dinner is in fifteen minutes. Keith, will you be joining us?” She said, appearing out of the kitchen.

 

“No, Mrs. Fuentes, I have to go to work.”

 

“He has to go to work.” Lance repeated.

 

“Thank you for the offer, though.” Keith said, pulling on his shoes by the entry way.

 

“Maybe next time.” Lance’s mother said. “It’s always so nice meeting one of Lance’s friends.”

 

Keith nodded and seemed to avoid looking at Lance.

 

“Papá! Can you give Keith a ride to work?!” Lance yelled. His father walked out the door to the garage. He was a rather tall, gruff looking man with a large mustache. Keith seemed to shy away for a second before returning to normal.

 

“Sure, where does he work?” Lance’s dad asked.

 

“I work at the arcade.” Keith said. He hesitated. “...sir.”

 

“Polite.” Lance’s dad said. He nodded once, showing that he approved. “I like him. C’mon Keith, was it? I’ll give you a ride.”

 

Before Keith left, Lance stopped him. “Bye.” He said. Lance didn’t know why he felt such a compulsion to say something, but he went with it. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Of course. It’s school.” Keith laughed. “Do you want to work on this over the weekend? We’ll have a longer time.” He leaned in to Lance. “My house maybe?” He whispered.

 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good. Saturday?”

 

“Yeah, uh-”

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lance’s dad said. “But I believe we have to go.”

 

Keith’s eyes darted to him. “Yeah, of course, uhhh…” He reached into his bag and pulled out a sharpie. He then pulled at Lance’s arm until Lance gave it to him and scrawled out a number. “My phone number. Just so we can...hash out some plans together.” Keith put the pen back in his bag and turned around before Lance could say anything (but not before Lance could see the blush staining his cheeks). Lance took back his arm and rubbed his skin where he knew the thick black numbers were as Keith and his dad were out the door, leaving him alone in the entrance.

 

“Nice blush.” Ri said, coming down the stairs when she noticed Keith was gone. “It’s almost as bad as your boyfriend’s.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was after dinner, when Lance had finished his math homework and was trying to get some TV time _not_ watching some romantic telenovela or the news, or something equally as horrible, when the phone rang.

 

“Lance, it’s for you.” His dad called. Lance jumped up, compromising his position on the couch to one of his sisters, and ran over to where his dad held the phone. He was excited, like feel it was something _important_ on the other side of the phone. He wondered if Keih called. Which was silly, because it was _Keith_ who had given _him_ his phone number (he could still feel it, like it was metaphorically burned into his skin as it was his memory).

 

“Hey.” He said, answering the phone.

 

“Lance, it’s us.” Hunk’s voice came through. It sounded like he was somewhere busy.

 

“Hey Lance.” Lance heard Pidge’s voice join Hunk’s.

 

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

 

“Lance, you need to come to the arcade right. Now.”

 

“What? What’s the big deal man, MTV is-”

 

“Dude, it’s _Firelord._ ”

 

“I’ll be right there.” Lance hung the phone back up on the wall. He hopped over to the entry way, slipping his shoes onto his feet without bothering to untie them. He peered out to the living room for his mom or dad, but seeing none of them, he just called to his abuelita. “Dile a mamá y papá que iré a la sala de juegos!”

 

His abuelita nodded and swished her hand at him, so he took that as his leave to go. He stepped into the garage and grabbed his bike and then opened the garage door. It was growing dark outside, but not dark enough that the street lamps had come on yet. Lance could tell that he was going to regret not bringing a jacket, but he closed the garage door behind him and took off on his bike anyways. He didn’t have time to get a jacket. He _needed_ to see who Firelord was. He _needed to._

 

It only took about twenty minutes to bike to the arcade. Fifteen if he was fast. And he was _fast._ It wasn’t long before Lance pulled up at the arcade. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen it at night- he always left before it got dark. It seemed completely different swathed in neon lights. He could see the people inside. It seemed unusually busy. Lance wondered if Keith was there.

 

Lance walked in and located Hunk immediately. His friend towered over all of the other teens there. Hunk waved him over. Pidge was standing next to him with her arms crossed.

 

“Took you long enough.” She said.

 

“Where is he?” Lance asked, panting. The bike ride might have taken more out of him than he thought.

 

“Or she.” Pidge added.

 

Hunk pointed his chin towards a large group of people crowded around a game. They were clamoring to see, some of the people in the back even standing on their toes to watch. Seeing as how Mrs. Pacman was on the right and Galaga was on the left, the game in the middle of the mob _must_ be Voltron. And Lance could just tell. It was him. It was Firelord.

 

“Did you see who is is?” Lance asked Hunk.

 

Hunk shook his head. “No, there’s too many people. And you know how Pidge is with people.” Trust Hunk to loyally stand in the back with Pidge. Lance sighed. He’s just have to do this himself.

 

Lance shoved himself into the group, elbowing some twelve year old redhead and a kid missing his front teeth. As he neared the front of the group he could hear people excitedly yelling.

 

“Left! No, no, right! Go right!”

 

“Shut up kid, I’ve got this.” A voice gritted. Something about it seemed….familiar.

 

Finally, Lance pushed himself to the front. And there he was. Firelord. It was some kid, about Lance’s age in the arcade employee’s shirt and black jeans, a black windbreaker wrapped around his waist.

 

“Lance, who is it?” Hunk yelled over the clamoring crowd. The person playing still hadn’t turned around.

 

“I’d recognise that mullet anywhere.” Lance said, voice surprisingly clear.

 

Keith turned around once he heard Lance. His wide eyes displayed his surprise, and he didn’t even seem to notice when a galra ship shot his lion down, ending the game. The crown around him groaned as the **Game Over** screen flashed. Keith looked like he was trying to find words, trying to play cool, but Lance could see how shaken he was.

 

“Keith.” Lance said. He didn’t know what else to say.

 

“Lance.” Keith responded. The people around them murmured, confused, but not moving away.

 

“You’re Firelord.” Lance said. He felt calmer than he should be. He expected his first meeting with the infamous Firelord to be something dramatic, especially since it was Keith, but instead he felt relaxed. Tranquil. Like the calm before the storm.

 

“Uh, yeah.” Keith said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Lance noticed that Hunk and Pidge had muscled their way to the front and were standing on either side of him, providing their support. “You...you fucking pisswipe liar!” And the calm was over. “You fucking knew, you motherfucking asshole!”

 

Keith looked affronted. “What?!”

 

“You’re fucking- oh, jeez, this is rich. And just when I actually started to like you.” Lance said. He felt ridiculously hurt. He knew it was stupid, really. He didn’t even care that it was Keith who was beating him at _his_ game (well maybe he cared a little). After a while the search for Firelord had become more about the excitement of the search, not actually finding him itself. But that fact that Keith- that Keith had _known_ (nevermind if Keith had known how important to him it was), that was what really felt like a kick in the balls.

 

“What on Earth- what are you even talking about?!” Keith asked. He was yelling now too, and this was beginning to be reminiscent of their previous yelling matches. Lance might’ve been sad to see their newfound, tentative friendship go down the drain, but he was too mad now to think of that.

 

“You- you know that I was The Tailor, and you've been beating me for weeks and-” Oh god, now he was starting to feel stupid. Lance’s voice cracked and he could feel his emotions getting out of hand like they always do.

 

“Are you fucking serious? _That’s what this is about?!_ Well, I’m sorry I just know how to play a fucking _arcade game_ better than you, but-”

 

“Oh, please, you don’t know _SHIT!”_ _Oh god, oh god. This is getting out of hand. Abort, abort._ Lance wasn’t even that mad, he was just arguing for the sake of arguing, for the sake of _winning._

 

“I know you, and you’re shitty enough!” Keith yelled back.

 

“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough.” Hunk said, grabbing Lance’s arm. Lance was about to retort, but Hunk’s stern look stopped him. “Lance, it’s time to go.”

 

Hunk led Lance out of the crowd, people parting to let them through like the red sea. Lance could see Keith standing in the middle, watching them go with a scowl. But Lance could tell it was for show. He didn’t know when he became able to read Keith so well, but he could tell he was hurt. Lance’s anger faded, leaving an overwhelming sense of shame.

 

“Hey, what do you think happened?” He heard someone whisper.

 

“Lovers quarrel?” Someone snickered back. _Okay, maybe not all my anger._ Hunk grabbed Lance’s fist before he could make a swing at someone, at anyone.

 

“Lance, you need to cool down, buddy.” Hunk said.

 

“Yeah, that was seriously crazy.” Pidge said.

 

Lance nodded. “I know, I know. It’s just- Keith. I don’t know what it is about him-”

 

“I do.”

 

“-but he just gets me so...riled up.” Lance finished. Casting a warning glare in Pidge’s direction. He would never really get mad at her, but he was just not feeling it right now.

 

“It’s alright, Lance. Just...sort yourself out.” Hunk said.

 

“Yeah, you need to resolve that tension between you. That _sexual_ tension.” Pidge grinned.

 

“Pidge, not tonight.” Lance said, sighing. He didn’t know how he felt anymore. On one hand, Keith made him so _angry,but_  he also made him feel so, so _happy. Content._ Whenever he was with Keith it was like his emotions were louder, like Keith just put his hand on the volume button and turned them up. They weren’t even _friends,_ especially not anymore. Jeez, that was a sad thought. “I think- I think I’m gonna go home. Maybe take a sick day or something.”

 

“Okay. That sounds good. Just don’t miss too much. Are we on for Friday afternoon?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Lance said. “Bye, guys.” He began walking away, but he heard Pidge mutter something to Hunk.

 

“Is that a phone number? Whose could it be?”

 

“The only other person he’s seen since school is Keith.” Hunk and Pidge shared a knowing look. Lance directed his gaze away from them. It took until he made it to his bike, leaned up against the side of the arcade, before he looked at the numbers scrawled on his arm. He shivered in the cold and scrubbed at the pen, as if he could scratch it away like he wished he could scratch away the memories of tonight. Instead it just made his arm pink and hurting. He thought of Keith, warm hand on his wrist, grin as he pressed the sharpie to Lance’s skin. _Well, not the whole night._

 

Lance got on his bike and rode home. He had a lot of thinking to do.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance took a sick day. Actually, he took two. After Wednesday night at the arcade he couldn’t face school, and he especially couldn’t face Keith. He knew he would have to work with him on Saturday- tomorrow, and that he would have to call him eventually (the numbers were already starting to fade from his arm), but he couldn’t muster up the courage. He felt embarrassed for how he acted. It was completely ridiculous and he wasn’t even _that_ mad. He just ruined a friendship, or at least the beginning of one, and for nothing.

 

It took quite a bit of convincing for his mother to let him go over to Hunk’s house that afternoon. When he had come home from the arcade it hadn’t been hard to convince his mom to let him stay home, he supposed he just really looked like shit, but now after two days of lying around the house and watching _Sol de Batey_ with his _Abuelita_ he was ready to get out of the house.

 

“Lance, are you sure?”

 

“Sí mamá, I’m all better now. See?” He placed her hand on his forehead. It must have been good enough because she shrugged.

 

“Sure. Go ahead. I’m tired of your moping anyways.”

 

“Gracias mamá. I’ll be back by six thirty.”

 

“You can stay ‘till seven.” His mom said, sighing. She smiled lovingly at him. “Mijo, I know you haven’t been sick, but I hope that you can get over whatever is making you feel so bad.”

 

Instead of replying, he gave her a hug. “I’ll be home by seven.” He said gratefully.

 

It wasn’t very far to Hunk’s house, only a few blocks away, so Lance opted to walk instead of bike. The air was crisp on his face and the leaves crunched under his feet. He was _so_ glad to be out of the house and in the fresh air. It had become stifling. Maybe he would convince Hunk and Pidge to sit outside for a change.

 

Soon he had arrived at Hunk’s house. He walked right in and up to Hunk’s room, saying hello to Ms. Garrett on the way up.

 

“Que bola asere!” He said, opening the door to Hunk’s room. Seeing only Hunk, sitting on his bed, reading a book, and not Pidge with him, he asked “Hey, has Pidge not arrived yet?”

 

“Actually, Pidge had a last minute thing with her brother.” Hunk said. He set the book down. “It’s just you and me amigo, just like old times.”

 

“Sweet. Uh, do you think maybe we could sit outside?” Lance asked. Hunk nodded. He stood up and they both walked out to his backyard. It was a small area with a sycamore tree that had a hammock tied to its trunk and a short pole in one fenced in corner and a few dirty plastic chairs, bleached with time spent in the sun, scattered around the half-dead grass.

 

“So, I mean, you probably don’t want to talk about this, but- have you talked to Keith yet?” Hunk asked, once they were finally situated outside. Lance was situated on the old hammock, gently swaying himself with one foot, while Hunk sat on one of the dirty, white plastic chairs.

 

Lance sighed. “No. Not yet.” At Hunk’s disappointed look, he hurried to say “But I will. Tonight. We’re supposed to work on the Physio project tomorrow.” Lance was silent for a minute. He could tell Hunk wanted to say something, but that he was letting Lance speak first. “I just- I feel so stupid.”

 

“Have you finally accepted your big fat crush on him?” Huk said excitedly.

 

“What? No, no, I mean fighting with him. And that we can’t be friends anymore. God, sometimes I think you might actually be serious about all this ‘crush’ talk.”

 

Hunk shrugged. “I don’t think you can't be friends anymore…. Ahg, double negative. I mean, I think that if you apologise, Keith will forgive you. I think he wants to be friends with you just was much as you want to be friends with him.”

 

“Really? I don’t know. I was pretty crappy to him…”

 

“Yeah, you were. But he’ll forgive you.” Hunk said. He pushed himself off his chair and went to stand next to Lance in the hammock. “Hey, scoot over.”

 

Lance did as he asked and moved over. The strings of the hammock stretched under Hunk’s weight, almost touching the ground. Lance was forced on top of Hunk by the sudden angle of the netting. “Hey!” He laughed.

 

“It’s not my fault you’re a beanpole.” Hunk answered back.

 

“I’ll have you know that under this-” Lance lifted up is bomber jacket. “-I have the broadest shoulders-”

 

“Sure Lance-”

 

“They are! I don’t even wear shoulder pads!” Lance said. He laid his head on Hunk’s chest once he had stopped laughing.

 

“..Lance? You seem awfully quiet today. Are you still worried about Keith?” Hunk’s voice sounded concerned. Lance sighed

 

“I just can’t stop thinking about him. This is so stupid. What’s happening to me?” Lance asked. He looked up at the leaves of the sycamore, blowing in the breeze. Part of him thought it was just guilt that had Keith racing through his mind. And that sure was some of it. But there was something else as well. Something that had moments repeating in his head, little snapshots- Keith scrawling his number on Lance’s arm, talking about Voltron, Keith’s smile. _His stupid, beautiful smile._

 

“Lance...don’t get defensive when I say this, but uh, I know it was mostly a joke, I mean, there definitely is some truth to it-”

 

“Spit it out, Hunk.”

 

“Do you think that...you really do like Keith? In _that_ way?”

 

Lance sat up so abruptly that the hammock swayed unsteadily, almost tipping him over, even with Hunk’s weight weighing it down. He stood up and turned around to face Hunk, who was sitting up in the hammock looking at him expectantly. “What? No, I mean, haha, it was kind of stupid when you were both joking about it, but you don’t actually think-?”

 

“I mean...buddy- it does kind of seem that way. And Pidge and I weren’t _completely_ joking. And dude, if you do-”

 

“Well, I don’t!”

 

“- _if_ you do- we won’t think anything less of you. You’re still our Lance and you liking a boy won’t change that.”

 

“I don’t- what about Allura? I like her! And her bleached hair and how she always smells like _Electric Youth_ and-”

 

“Dude, you haven’t talked about Allura in over a year. She’s graduated!” Hunk said. He put his hands up in a calming motion. “Lance, calm down-” Lance stopped pacing (he hadn’t even realized he was doing it). “Look, I’m not going to- to pressure you into a decision. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Just- uh, reevaluate your feelings. Maybe in less of a friendship way this time.”

 

Lance sank down into a chair. It didn’t distress him that Hunk had suggested it. What troubled him was… what if he really _did_ like Keith? He would have to rearrange everything in his mind, everything he’s ever thought about Keith and everything he’s ever thought about himself. He wasn’t even that concerned about the gay thing. Or- was it gay? No, he definitely liked girls. He was- oh, what was that word? Bi? Like David Bowie. He could deal with that, sure (although he was a bit anxious about what his abuelita would think), but Keith? _Wait, wait, wait- I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t know if I even-_

 

“-ance? Lance?” Hunk’s voice broke Lance out of his reverie. “Hey, dude, you okay? I didn’t mean to spring this on you all of the sudden, well, I guess not ‘all of the sudden’ ‘cause Pidge and I’ve kinda been hinting at it for a while, but-”

 

“Dude, dude, it’s fine. I’m just. I don’t think I want to talk about this right now.” Lance dragged his hands down his face. “What time it it?”

 

“Sure, dude. And uh, I don’t know. Mom!!” Hunk yelled to his mother inside.

 

“Yeah?!” Lance heard her yell back.

 

“What time is it?!”

 

“Five thirty!”

 

“It’s five thirty.” Hunk said to Lance.

 

“Yeah, I heard.” Lance said. “Do you wanna...watch a movie?”

 

“Sure! I got Sixteen Candles on VHS.” Hunk offered.

 

Lance smiled appreciatively. “You know me so well.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance waited to call Keith until that night, at 10 o’clock.

 

“Hello?” Keith’s voice answered. Lance noted that he picked up on the first ring (and thank god. Lance had been so worried it would’ve been Shiro).

 

“Hey.” Lance said. Then he nervously followed it up with “It’s Lance.”

 

Keith chuckled. “I know that.” Lance heard him shifting around on the other end of the line. “Um, what are you calling me for?” The friendliness in his voice when he answered was gone. Lance sighed.

 

“Well, I called ‘cause we’re supposed to meet tomorrow. And I need to know when.” Lance said. He heard Keith sigh. Lance could’ve sworn it sounded disappointed. “And...I want to apologise. On Wednesday that was… that was really stupid of me. How I reacted. It’s not even that important to me, winning first. Anymore. What I mean to say is-”

 

“No, Lance- forget about it. Everything’s cool.”

 

“No- no it’s not. That was really shitty and I really like you-” Lance swallowed as he thought of his conversation with Hunk. “-as a friend- and I didn’t- don’t- want to ruin any of that. I can’t believe I’m saying this but- you’re really cool, Keith.”

 

The line was silent and Lance would have thought Keith had hung up if it wasn’t for the breathing on the other end.

 

“How’s four?” Keith finally said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“To meet tomorrow. Is four okay?”

 

Lance blinked. “Um, sure, uh-”

 

“I have to go, but...thanks Lance. I- I think you’re pretty cool too.”

 

Before he could answer, Lance heard a click as Keith hung up.

 

“...He thinks I’m cool.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance walked over to Keith’s house at 3.45 on Saturday. He was right the last time he had been there- it really was quite close to Pidge’s house. He knocked on the door, hearing a crash and a bang before it opened up.

 

“Hey Laaance.” Shiro said. He drew out the middle syllable of Lance’s name, raising an eyebrow at Keith, who he was holding back with his arm. They had obviously raced to the door.

 

“...Hi Shiro. Nice apron.” Lance was referring to the frilly purple apron Shiro was currently sporting. Lance could guess he was baking something, from the flour on his nose and the amazing smell coming from inside the house. “Hey Keith.” He said. Keith immediately straightened from trying to shove his brother out of the way. Shiro laughed. It seemed like an inside joke between the two of them.

 

“Hi Lance. Do you wanna come in?” Keith cast a glare at Shiro, who moved out of the way. He caught the door and held it open for Lance.

 

“Yeah,” Lance stepped into the house. It was the same as before, maybe a bit cleaner this time. The whole place smelled like freshly baked cookies. And freshly burned cookies. “Shiro, I think your uh- your cookies-”

 

“Shit!” Shiro ran off in the direction of the kitchen.

 

“Sorry about him.” Keith said as Lance was toeing off his shoes at the door.  “We can get to work?”

 

Lance and Keith worked in Keith’s room for an hour before Keith shoved his books off of him and laid down.

 

“Uhhhggg.” He groaned.

 

“Keith?” Lance asked. They had been working in mostly silence, except for the Smiths tape playing in Keith’s cassette player (Lance hated the croonings of Morrissey, but he felt that letting Keith play his own music was part of the necessary reparations he had to make).

 

“Sorry, sorry, I just- can’t think.” Keith said. He sat back up and looked at the book before closing it definitively. “I’m done. Do you want to- do you wanna get out of here?”

 

“And go where?” Lance asked. To be honest, he was done too. There was something about the weekend, especially a Saturday, that was too sacred for homework.

 

“It’s...a surprise.” Keith said grinning. Lance looked away when he felt himself blushing.

 

“Okay. Sure.”

 

“Great. Great! Uhh, just, go over to the garage, I need to get something.”

 

Lance thought about questioning Keith, but decided against it. “Alright.”  

 

He left Keith’s room and turned down the hall, walking through the living room and- _shit...where’s the door to the garage?_ Lance wandered down another short hallway and opened a door. _Nope, bathroom._ He retraced his steps and ended up near the kitchen.

 

“Lance?” Shiro asked. He stood stooped over the fridge, arms full of snacks.“What’re you doing?”

 

“Um...where’s the door to the garage?” Lance asked. Shiro stopped his rummaging. He pointed to a door next to the main entry way.

 

“What are you doing?” He asked again. He sounded curious.

 

“Uhhh, I’m not sure.” Lance said. Shiro’s face twisted up in confusion. “Keith’s taking me somewhere? He didn’t tell me where though.”

 

“Ohhh. Okay. Well...be safe.” Shiro winked and turned back to the fridge to grab a container of yogurt. Lance felt strangely uncomfortable, like Shiro was seeing straight through him. What it was he was seeing was still a mystery to Lance.

 

“Uhhhh…” He said intelligently. He felt a hand clap on his shoulder and jumped. Keith’s face appeared, smiling next to his.

 

“Ready to go?” He asked. Lance nodded mutely. Keith led him towards the garage door. When Lance glanced at Keith he saw him mouthing something at his older brother. Lance looked back at Shiro, but he was just smiling at them normally. _Wonder what that was about._

 

“Don’t worry. It won’t be a very long ride.” Keith said. He handed Lance a helmet and got one for himself. Lance put in on and zipped up his jacket. Keith pulled open the garage door and wheeled the bike out, waiting for Lance to follow him before closing the door. “Ready?”

 

By way of answering Lance swung his leg over the seat and grabbed onto Keith’s torso. “Ready when you are.”

 

This motorcycle ride was just as exhilarating as the last, but without all of the beginning fear (okay, that was a lie. Lance’s stomach dropped to his feet when Keith kicked off the ground). He clutched Keith’s abdomen so tightly he could feel his heartbeat, hammering right alongside his. It was warm and cold, fast and slow and Lance just felt alive alive alive. He wondered what his mom would think if he brought a motorcycle home (or if he brought Keith home instead).

 

Lance kept trying to figure out where it was they were going. They rode down Aspen, so maybe out of town and towards the mountains. But then they turned down 2nd, so maybe they were going to the arcade. But instead they turned yet again, and Lance was lost. Finally, once they were going down Garrison Street and Keith began to slow down, Lance figured it out.

 

“We’re going to the school?” He yelled into Keith’s ear. What on earth would they do at the school? It wasn’t even open.

 

“Yeah.” He heard Keith yell back, confirming his suspicions.

 

“Why?” Lance asked. Maybe there was still a teacher here that Keith needed to talk to. Maybe this was just a stop, not their final destination.

 

Keith pulled into the empty parking lot. The sun was starting to fade, not quite sunset, but getting there. The flag on the flagpole pathetically waved from side to side, the metal clasps clanking eerily on the pole.The school was completely empty. Lance shivered, but not from cold. It felt wrong to be here on a Saturday evening.

 

“What are we doing here?” Lance asked.

 

“You’ll see.” Keith replied coyly. He took of his helmet, his hair wild from the ride. He pushed it back and tied it into a low ponytail. It was a mostly futile effort because most of it came to frame his face anyways. Lance gulped thickly.

 

“Seriously mullet, have you taken me here to murder me?” Lance laughed. He took off his helmet and cringed to think of the state of his hair. He attempted to smooth it down with his hand.

 

“Here,” Keith said. He reached out and ran his hand through Lance’s hair a few times and then smoothed it down around his ears. Lance hope the fading light would conceal his reddening face. “All better. And I told you not to call me that.” Keith said, taking his hand back. He looked down at Lance’s face and froze. “Oh, uh- I-”

 

Lance cleared his throat. “Um- Let’s- let’s get going?”

 

Keith nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Follow me.”

 

Keith led Lance to the back of the gym. Lance watched as he put his foot on a pipe and grabbed the roof of the back sports shed. He pulled himself on top easily and then turned to Lance.

 

“Coming?” He smirked down at Lance, who was openly gaping. Lance shook his head, but then nodded. He took a deep breath, grabbing onto the roof of the building and pushing himself up from the pipe. He would have liked to say he was as graceful as Keith was, but that would have been a lie.

 

Keith continued scaling the building, grabbing onto pipes and the edge of the locker room building, quickly pulling himself up to the top of the gym. He had obviously done this many times before. Lance followed slowly, cautiously placing his hands and feet in the same place Keith's had been and pulling himself up. Finally, he made it to the top, rolling onto the roof, painting. Keith, who was sitting down, legs dangling off the side of the building, stood up to help him up.

 

“No, no,” Lance said, waving away Keith’s hand. “I’m good.” _Damn, why does Keith have to be so damn good at everything?_

 

Keith shrugged and sat back down, facing the sunset. Lance sat next to him, and dangled his legs off the edge of the building. He looked down and thanked god he wasn’t afraid of heights.

 

The sun was starting to set, casting an orange glow over everything. From here, since the school was on a hill at the edge of town, they could see the whole town, spread over the valley between the ocean and the early slopes of the Appalachians.

 

Keith nudged Lance. Lance looked over at Keith and almost wished he hadn’t. The glow of the sunset along with the slight breeze, pushing Keith’s hair out of his face...Lance didn’t know a lot about art, but he could say Keith was a masterpiece.

 

Lance looked down at what Keith was holding to him. His eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Uhhh..” He said. He was really not on top of his vocab game today.

 

Keith’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god, do you- wow this was so stupid, I shouldn’t have assumed you would want to-” He closed his hand and began to put the blunt back in his pocket. “Jesus, I saw all the Reagan posters on your street, ‘Just say no’ as Mrs. Reagan would say-”

 

“Dude, calm down.” Lance said. Keith seemed to be seriously freaking out. Did he think Lance would report him? Or maybe that Lance would get mad or think less of him? Keith was shoving the blunt and a lighter into his pocket and still anxiously babbling. Lance put a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, Keith. It’s okay. I’d like to, to uhh”

 

Keith raised his eyes to meet Lance’s. “Seriously? Because I wasn’t kidding. You could ‘just say no’.”

 

“Yeah, I mean...I’ve never-”

 

“That’s okay. I’ll help you.” Keith took the joint back out of his pocket, along with the green lighter. He handed them to Lance, who took them curiously. Hell, forget coming back home with a motorcycle, what would his mom think if he came home _high._ He took a deep breath and Keith chuckled.

 

“You do that after you light it.” He said.

 

“I know that,” Lance bit back. He held it in between his thumb and forefinger. He clicked the lighter on and watched the flame come to life. He waved it under the non-filter end of the joint.

 

“Don’t take too big of a hit if it’s your first time.” Keith advised.

 

“I _know.”_ Lance said, even though he didn’t. Once the flame had started to singe the end he placed the blunt between his lips and took a drag. He coughed violently as smoke filled his lungs. Keith who had been peering at him intently started laughing.

 

“Pass it over.”  Keith said, still laughing. Lance was still coughing, the uncomfortable feeling burning his throat. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel it right away, but when you do..” Keith mimed ‘mind blown’. He took a drag, much longer than Lance’s and sighed.

 

Lance watched him closely. The sun was starting to fade more and more and lights on the street had started to come on. Keith seemed more relaxed than Lance had ever seen him, leaning on his forearms, his legs dangling off the roof. Lance noticed Keith’s eyes lazily studying him. Keith offered him the joint again and Lance took it.

 

He barely coughed the second time, or the third time, and by the fourth time was almost as cool and smooth as Keith. Keith had pulled out a walkman and they shared an earbud as they listened to the Smiths. And Lance _liked_ it. They were sitting impossibly close to each other and despite the cold of the night air, Lance had never felt warmer. He was feeling the effects of the weed, everything seemed to kind of slow down around him, and every stupid thing that came out of Keith’s mouth was genius and hilarious. And when Keith decided to trace constellations into his skin, or twist his hair in between his fingers, Lance leaned into it.

 

“Favorite movie?” Keith asked. He exhaled a long breath of smoke and Lance watched it curl prettily across the purple sky.

 

“Sixteen Candles.” Lance responded.

 

“Really? I would’ve pegged you for a Star Wars guy.” Keith said. He passed the blunt to Lance., who shrugged.

 

“What about you?”

 

“Star Wars.” Keith said. Lance hummed in acknowledgement.

 

“Favorite….food?”

 

“Pizza.” Keith said. “God, I could eat a whole pizza right now.”

 

“Oh my god, I know this amazing pizza place that has the best garlic knots. We should go.” Lance said.

 

“Totally.” Keith agreed. “Later though. I wanna stay here for a bit.” He leaned into Lance and Lance nodded.

 

“It’ll be a date.” He the words left his mouth before he even thought about it. And oh god, _why would I say that._ Keith leaned away from Lance and grabbed the blunt from him, taking a long drag. Lance hoped Keith couldn’t sense his internal panic while he blew smoke rings over the side of the gymnasium. His conversation with Hunk flashed through his head. _No, no, no, this is not the time to be thinking about that._

 

“Totally.” Keith finally said. Lance took a deep breath of the cold night air. Keith didn’t seem to think what he said was weird. He shouldn’t either.

 

Keith passed back the joint. Lance took a hit and puffed it out, attempting to make rings like Keith had. Instead they came out as awkward puffs of smoke, rolling over each other before disappearing. Lance looked over to see Keith watching him.

 

“So, why did you even start smoking. No offense, but you don’t exactly seem like a stoner,” Lance asked. It had been something he was curious about since, well, the beginning of the night. It seemed like Keith was just one surprise after another, never what Lance thought he would be. An enigma.

 

Keith laughed. “None taken. I don’t know, I was having problems with anxiety when we first moved here. Y’know, new school, new people. And it was right as I was entering high school, so I had that as an added stress too. One day after I had a complete mental breakdown in the bathroom after History and, y’know Rolo?” Lance nodded that he did. “He said he had something for me and well, here we are.”

 

Lance chose not to say anything in response, instead nodding and looking over the horizon. The sun was completely behind the distant mountains. Lance guessed that if he looked behind him he would see the first few stars. He sighed and leaned back, leaning against the roof. Keith handed him the joint but Lance shook his head. If it was this dark already it was probably getting pretty late. He should sober up.

 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Keith said. He took one last long drag before putting the blunt out on the side of the building and tossing it to the pavement below. He blew out a long string of smoke. “Hmmmm...what would you like to do once you graduate?”

 

“I kind of always had this dream of going into space.” Lance said. He expected Keith to laugh, but he remained silent. “I just remember watching apollo 17 on the TV, I mean, I was only three, so it was one of my first memories, but it was just so- I just would really like to do that. To be up there. It’s hard to imagine being that far away from home though.”

 

Keith hummed. “That’s- that’s really cool, Lance. I wish I had dreams like that.”

 

Lance looked up at Keith, who was pointedly _not_ looking at Lance. “You don’t?”

 

“No,” Keith sighed. “I don’t really know what I want to do. And we’re graduating in eight months and I’m gonna be eighteen in one, I just feel like you’ve got your life sorted out and I’m just-”

 

Lance sat up again and put his hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, Keith. Dude, I totally don’t have my life sorted out. I mean, that’s what I want to do, but I don’t know if I can. I mean, compared to your grades mine are belpth.” Lance made a thumbs down motion. Keith laughed.

 

“I don’t think you have to worry about whether you’ll be able to, Lance. You’re really smart.” Keith said. Lance blushed from the compliment. Keith took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m just stressed. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Lance knew he would worry about it whether or not Keith said he should, but he had a feeling Keith didn’t want to talk about the subject anymore. “Okay,” he said, laying back down. This time Keith followed him. “If you ever need someone though, I’m here for you.” Lance cleared his throat. _Okay, time to change the subject. “_ So, aliens? Real or fake?” He asked.

 

Lance looked over at Keith and saw his eyes light up. As expected, Keith went on a rant, talking about likelihoods and digging deep into conspiracies. Lance was no fool, he saw the special edition ET vhs on his bookshelf and the Roswell clippings pasted on the wall next to Keith’s desk, and he didn’t particularly care about aliens (except for the hot ones- *cough* Princess Fala *cough*), but seeing Keith smile the way he was and talk so animatedly- it was worth it.

 

Keith seemed to realize how much he was talking, because he bashfully stopped. “Sorry, ha, I know I can get kind of...carried away.”

 

Okay, so maybe Lance was a fool, because he said “It’s okay, I could listen to you talk forever.”

 

Keith instantly coloured and looked away, clearing his throat. Lance internally panicked, thinking he had ruined everything, but when Keith looked back, he was smiling. “Really?”

 

Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. He could easily diffuse the tension with a joke, or change the subject, but instead he told the truth. “Yeah. It’s uh, it’s nice.” He said, smiling back up at Keith. Keith looked back up at the sky, still smiling softly. Lance felt the urge to reach out, touch him, hold his hand, anything, but he fought it. He wouldn’t prove Hunk right (although he knew it was a losing battle- Hunk was already right).

 

“You speak spanish, right?” Keith asked.

 

“Yeah. You heard me the other day.”

 

Keith shrugged. “Say something?”

 

Lance sighed. “You heard me say something the other day,” He said. “Why?”

 

“It’s pretty.”

 

 _Oh,_ Lance thought, _pretty._ He swallowed thickly. “Yo creo que _eres_ guapo….bonito.”

 

“What did you say?” Keith asked.

 

Lance gave him a teasing smile. “Learn Spanish, then you’ll know.” He said. Keith pouted.

 

“Maybe I will.” He said.

 

Lance didn’t have anything to say back, so he said nothing. He could feel the effects of the weed slowly wearing off and himself becoming more sober, but the warmth wasn’t fading. The feeling in his chest, fluttering, burning, aching- that wasn’t fading either. Instead it was growing stronger, with every word Keith said, every soft smile. When Keith scooched closer to Lance, laying next to him so that their heads were touching, his heart very near lept out of his chest.

 

“See that?” Keith asked, hand raised, pointing at the sky. Lance squinted and followed Keith’s finger to discern where he was pointing. It was a small cluster of stars in the shape of an M.

 

He nodded.  “I think.”

 

“That one’s Cassiopeia.” Keith explained. “But Shiro used to tell me the M stood for mothman.”

 

Lance snorted. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. And that one-” Keith pointed to the constellation Lance knew was Orion. “That’s bigfoot.”

 

Lance laughed. “I can’t believe you- and you believed it?!”

 

“Yeah, I mean, he was my big brother.” Keith explained. He was laughing too. “Sometimes he also made them up out of random shapes.”

 

“No way, my big sister used to do that.” Lance exclaimed.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah, like that one-” Lance pointed at a vaguely rectangular shape in the sky. “That’s sharpshooter. See, it looks like a gun?”

 

Keith squinted at what Lance was pointing at. “No way, that’s a knife. See the point?” He said.

 

“Nuh uh, you’re wrong. It’s obviously a gun. That one-” Lance moved his hand to point to another cluster. “That one’s a knife.”

 

“So what? You’re an astronomer now? You can just...make them up as you go?” Keith laughed. He was looking at Lance instead of the stars. They were impossibly close, only centimeters apart. Lance could feel Keith’s break on his cheek and his hair tickle his face. His almost violet eyes were exceptionally deep as they stared into Lance’s (Lance had a line for this that went something like ‘Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in your eyes’).

 

“Yeah, I can.” Lance said (instead of the line). “Let’s see you try to do it.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Lance challenged.

 

“Okay,” Keith said, taking a deep breath like he was bracing himself for something. He let it out shakily while searching the sky, almost nervously. “That one.” He said finally.

 

Lance followed his finger to a brightly shining star with a blue tint. Was it a star or a planet?

 

“That one? That doesn’t count.” Lance insisted.

 

“Why not?” Keith jutted out his chin.

 

“It’s-it’s just a star. You need to find a constellation.” Lance said. He scanned the sky for a replacement or an example.

 

“No, it’s that one.” Keith persisted.

 

Lance sighed, pausing his search to look at Keith. He was already looking at Lance attentively. “Fine. What is it?”

 

“It’s you.” Keith said. He looked back up to the sky, his hair tickling Lance’s face as he moved. Lance felt his stomach drop- but in a good way. Was that even possible? He didn’t _know._ But what he did know was that his stomach was erupting in a torrent of butterflies, his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest (could Keith hear it? _Oh god, what if Keith hears it!_ ), and his hands, he couldn’t keep them still (not that he ever could, but now they were itching to take Keith’s, to place themselves on his face, to run themselves through Keith’s hair).

 

Lance swallowed, his throat suddenly dry (or more dry- who knew marijuana would make you so thirsty). “W-why?” He asked unsteadily.

 

“Because,” Keith said, pausing. He looked back at Lance, staring him down. “Because it shines the brightest.”

 

Oh god. _Oh god._ If Keith didn’t do something- do what? His hands knew what they wanted, but did Lance? Did this mean that-

 

Lance didn’t have to worry about it because Keith was propping himself on his elbows and leaning over Lance, close, close ,close, and then cupping his cheek and bringing their lips together. And Lance’s hands acted on their own, cupping Keith’s cheek, twisting themselves into his hair, shoving themselves between his shirt and that _stupid fucking motorcycle jacket_ to claw at his back. The butterflies erupted and _oh god,_ was his heart even beating anymore? Lance didn’t know. All he knew was the taste of Keith’s lips, the way he bit on Lance’s bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth.  The way he smelled like gasoline, movie popcorn and _something dangerous._ The way his hair, that dumb mullet, felt between Lance’s fingers, twisted and pulled and smoothed back down. All he knew was that it ended too soon. Keith pulled away and sat up, wide eyed and breathing hard.

 

And then Lance knew nothing at all.

 

Keith was pointedly not looking at Lance, the tips of his ears red. Lance knew he should say something, but what? He didn’t even know what to _think._ Does this mean they’re a thing? Does Keith like him or was it just the moment? Suddenly Lance felt cold. Fully sober, he just wanted to go home.

 

Keith stood up and cleared his throat a few times. He looked at Lance, who had sat up, and then averted his gaze. “It- was- I mean, I wasn’t- the weed-” Keith stuttered out by way of explanation.

 

“Yeah, of course. Uh, same for me.” Lance said awkwardly. It wasn’t true of course. He was feeling as sober as he’d ever been, and although Keith had smoked way more than him, it had been- how long had it even been? Lance squinted at the horizon. It was completely dark and even some of the lights in the houses had started turning off. “Shit, man, I told my mom I’d be back by curfew.” Lance said. He could think about -whatever that was, later.

 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll give you a ride home.” Keith offered. They began to climb down, Lance hopping precariously down from each foothold.

 

“Thanks, but-”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll drop you off down the street.” Keith said. Lance was grateful that he remembered Lance mentioning his mom’s aversion to motorcycles. This level of familiarity- it felt like they had known eachother forever, but they had only become friends just recently. Was all of that going to be ruined now?

 

“Thanks.” Lance breathed. They raced to the parking lot, quickly climbing onto Keith’s bike. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso delicately. It was like that first time- he didn’t know where they stood anymore.

 

The ride through the dark town was silent. Keith dropped Lance off at the corner of his street, a block away from his house. Lance stood for a second, thinking of something to say, but nothing came to mind. What did he want? For Keith to stay? For them to be a thing? To kiss him again? What did he feel? Affection? Yes. Sadness? Yeah, a bit. Confusion? Probably most of all.

 

He opened his mouth (the mouth that Keith _kissed)_ to say something, anything, but before he could, Keith was speaking over him. “Lance, your curfew.”

 

Lance nodded and Keith took that as his cue to leave, kicking off the ground and thundering down the street, leaving Lance, one block away from home, but feeling more lost than ever.

 

* * *

 

 

He told Hunk as soon as he saw him, of course. And since Hunk can’t keep a secret to save his life, Pidge knew as well.

 

“Seriously? He kissed you?” Hunk stage whispered. Lance pulled the phone closer, wrapping the cord around his finger. He peered out the closet he was currently hiding in at the other house phone. Ri had a habit of listening in to his conversations and this was one conversation where it would be detrimental to his life.

 

“Yeah, we were-” Lance whispered-” _smoking,_ and he just...leaned over and planted one on me.”

 

“You were smoking?!” Pidge said on the other line.

 

“Shhhhh, jesus Pidge, do you know how much trouble I could get into?” Lance sighed. “Yes, I was _smoking._ But we were sober, I swear.”

 

“And what did you say he said?” Hunk asked.

 

Lance flushed at the memory. “He- he pointed at a star and said that it was- it was me because it shined the brightest.” Lance said bashfully.

 

Hunk sighed dreamily. “Wow, that’s-”

 

“Damn!” Pidge said. “That is so smooth-”

 

“So smooth-”

 

“Lance, you should take some pointers from Keith.” Pidge laughed.

 

“Guy’s, it’s not funny!” Lance hissed. “This is a disaster!”

 

“Why? He likes you, you like him- what’s so bad about it?” Hunk asked.

 

“Well- I mean, do I even like him?” Lance asked. He could almost feel the look Hunk was sending him over the line. “Okay, okay, fine, I do. I really really like him. I’m head over heels, Tears for Fears style.” He admitted. “But...what if he doesn’t like me?”

 

“ _Oh my god_ , Lance.” Pidge said, sounding frustrated. “This is so stupid.”

 

“Lance, of course he likes you. He kissed you.” Hunk reasoned.

 

“But- he said it was the weed.” Lance said. “I mean, _I_ was sober, but maybe _he_ wasn’t.” Lance said.

 

“I swear to god- this is so...you two are so dumb. It doesn’t even work like that.” Pidge sighed. “Why can’t you just confess your love for eachother and get it over with.”

 

“Pidge.” Hunk chastised.

 

“Whatever, I’m out. I have some stuff to do for Shop.” She said.

 

“Bye Pidge.”

 

“Bye.”

 

The line clicked and then it was just Lance and Hunk.

 

“I mean...she had a point.” Hunk said.

 

Lance sighed dramatically. “I know, I know, but this isn’t Allura or Nyma- this is...it’s different.”

 

“I know. It’s reciprocated.”

 

Lance sighed again. “What do you think I should do?”

 

“You know what I think you should do, Lance.” Hunk responded. “I’ve got to go too. I’ve got to finish up that assignment for Physio. I swear Rax hasn’t done one thing in this assignment.”

 

“Okay, I’ll see you Monday then.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, yeah….god, I’m gonna have to see Keith again, aren’t I.”

 

“....Don’t you want that?”

 

“I do! That’s the problem!”

 

“I don’t-” Lance heard Hunk sigh over the phone. “Okay, Lance, I love you, but I agree with Pidge. You’re being ridiculous. Okay, okay, I’ve actually got to go now, y’know.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Lance heard the click as Hunk hung up the phone. He came out of the closet and hung up the phone on it’s hook. His sister came around the corner and picked it back up.

 

“Thank _god,_ I thought you would be on there _forever_. I have to call Johnny.” Ri said. She dialed in a phone number and waited with the it pressed to her ear.  She raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “What? You were talking to your boyfriend, why can’t I talk to mine?”

 

Lance spluttered. “I don’t- I _don’t_ have a boyfriend. I was talking to Hunk and Pidge!”

 

“Suuure- oh, shhh, he’s on...Heeyy Johnny.” Ri twirled the cord around her finger and shot Lance a glare. _Get out of here,_ she mouthed. Lance raised his palms to her in a surrender motion and sent her a teasing wink before he went up the stairs to his room.

 

Lance fell face forward into his bed and groaned. _What do I do?_ He wanted to see Keith but at the same time...he didn’t. If he saw him that would raise a whole lot of question- Are they boyfriend and...boyfriend now? What would people think? It’s not like it’s super common here...did Lance even know any gay people? Speaking of, was Lance gay? Or...what was that term that Hunk used? Bi? God, why couldn’t he figure this out already?

 

It was all too much to think about right now. Lance’s mind felt like it was racing at a million miles an hour. In fact, maybe he could just...not think about it at all. If he didn’t confront the problem it didn’t exist...right?

 

* * *

 

 

That Monday Lance was determined to avoid Keith. It was a schedule A, so he would have physio, but their project was more or less finished, so Lance could probably go without talking to him. And then from there it was smooth sailing. He had already told Hunk and Pidge that he couldn’t go to the arcade, and Pidge agreed that he could borrow her NES with Super Mario Bros on it ( _‘but I swear to god Lance, if you break my new nintendo I will murder you with the broken remnants of my baby’)._ Lance had agreed, despite her threats.

 

So now he had a plan. And so far it was working. He had gone through his first four classes with no event- he hadn’t even seen Keith’s motorcycle in the parking lot (not like he looked for it every time the bus pulled up).

 

And now it was Physio, and then lunch, and then that would be it, just a few more classes and he was home free. He entered the classroom, jostling past a gaggle of girls trading watermelon lip smackers in front of the door, before settling down in his seat. _Hmm. Seems like he’s not here yet,_ Lance noticed. It was a bit unusual. Keith was usually there before Lance, but maybe he was running a bit late.

 

The bell rang and the teacher entered the room. Students rushed to their seats as she began to take role. Lance craned his neck to look around. _Maybe he had just switched seats?_

 

“Keith?....Keith?....Keith?” The teacher called. She marked a note on her attendance sheet.

 

 _This is wrong. This is all wrong. Keith’s never been late, let alone absent._ Lance could never understand why he had once thought Keith didn’t care about school. Now that he knew him, he knew how desperate Keith was to achieve, to prove himself, despite not knowing what he wanted to prove himself for quite yet.

 

“Hey, do you know where Keith is?” Lance asked, leaning over to the person next to him. They shrugged.

 

Lance wasn’t able to pay attention to the majority of the lesson after that. The only thing that could have been more distracting than Keith being there was Keith _not_ being there. It seemed like barely five minutes had passed by the time the bell was ringing and the student were released for lunch. Lance shuffled his notes, or lack thereof into his bag and hiked it onto his shoulder. His stomach felt like it was consuming itself, but not from hunger- from nerves. What was wrong? Was Keith sick? Injured? _Dead? Whoa, whoa, whoa...I need to chill._

 

Lance knew he was overreacting. He was probably- _oh god,_ he was probably avoiding _Lance._ Lance felt like throwing up.

 

The rest of the day passed like a blur filled with lessons that went in one ear and out the other, and friends asking are you okay are you okayareyouokay?

 

When he went home he tossed his backpack onto the floor somewhere near his bed and went straight to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Keith was absent the next day.

 

* * *

 

And the day after that.

 

* * *

 

And the day after that.

 

* * *

 

“Maybe you should call him.” Hunk suggested. They were at Pidge’s house for once, a double wide trailer at the end of a cul de sac. It was too small to comfortably fit everyone, including Pidge’s family and the two boys, but because of her dad’s job, they had the best tech and so it became a hang out hotspot for whenever they couldn’t go to the arcade. Hunk was settled on the bed in Pidge’s room with Lance beside him and Pidge fiddling with a prototype for something they were putting together.

 

“I don’t have his number anymore.” Lance said, showing them his blank arm.

 

“But you remember it.” Pidge pointed out without looking up.

 

Lance sighed. “But I remember it.” He paused for a second, but carried on. “I can’t call him though. I mean, what if he thinks it’s weird. What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

 

“I doubt that’s true. He’s probably just sick.” Hunk reassured. “Wait Pidge, try…”Hunk bent over a pile of cogs in front of him. “..this one.” He handed it to her and she snapped it in place.

 

“Perfect.”

 

“I think...I think I’ll just wait. Something’s bound to happen.” Lance continued.

 

“That’s a bad idea.  The past few days you’ve been a bit…”

 

“Like you inhaled too much of that stupid hair mousse you always use.” Pidge interjected.

 

“I was gonna say out of it, but that too.”

 

“Well, excuse you, but Studio Line by L’oreal is my lord and savior, and I have not been acting like that.” Lance defended, moving a hand through his hair.

 

“Yesterday I asked how you were and you said ‘ballin’. That’s not even a thing, Lance. What does that mean?” Pidge asked.

 

“Also...you’re starting to break out. When you’re not religiously taking care of your skin, well….we start to worry about you.” Hunk added.

 

Lance jumped up and looked into the mirror behind Pidge’s desk. Now that he looked, his skin was looking a bit worse for wear.

 

“Okay, so maybe I’m not _perfect_ right now, but it’s fine. I just… even if I do call Keith, what would I say? It’s much better to just let _him_ make the first move.”

 

“He _already_ made the first move. Now it’s your turn, Lance.” Hunk said.

 

“You need to get it together,” Pidge added. “Now can we _please_ stop talking about Lance’s stupid big boy crush. I need Hunk to help me out with this part.”

 

Lance huffed and crossed his arms while Hunk crouched down next to Pidge. She picked up a strange metal piece and showed it to Hunk, who took it and looked it over.

 

“Fine, fine. I’ve got to go anyways. My mom and dad are on a ‘date night’ tonight and I need to help Abuelita make dinner.”

 

Hunk and Pidge looked up from their pile of metal and circuits.

 

“Bye Lance!”

 

“Bye Lance.”

 

Lance waved back. He inched his way around them and out of the room, making his way through the rest of the trailer and waving to Pidge’s dad on the way out.

 

Lance breathed in the cold evening air, exhaling steam. He watched as it curling against the sky, much like that night with Keith not so long ago. He knew he needed to do something, anything, but it was easier said than done. He was sure (sure?) he wanted _something_ with Keith, something that hopefully included more kisses, but with how Keith was avoiding him...Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that Keith regretted kissing him, or even becoming close to him in the first place. And just the thought hurt like hell.

 

* * *

 

TGIF as they say.

 

Friday and still no Keith. _What is up? Maybe he really is sick?_ Lance didn’t like to say it, but he doubted even _he_ was important enough to Keith for him to be avoiding him like this. Because this was- this was just ridiculous.

 

By now Lance wasn’t even sad anymore. He was just _annoyed._ He knew he didn’t have anything to be annoyed about, hell, it was a little bit Lance’s fault. He _could_ just call him.

 

“I’m gonna call him.” Lance said to Pidge during English.

 

“Oh thank god.” She said. She scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Lance. “Tell Will to pass this to Hunk.”

 

“Didn’t Hunk get moved _because_ he was passing too many notes?”

 

Pidge glared at Lance.

 

He passed the note to Will.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh _thank god!_ ”

 

“Hunk, is that _another_ note?”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you guys got me in trouble. Being moved is one thing, but _detention?_ ” Hunk complained. The last bell had rung and the group stood at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive.

 

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame Lance and his stupid love trouble.” Pidge said. She fiddled with her dollar, folding it into different shapes.

 

“Yeah, Lance, your stupid love trouble is getting _me_ in trouble.” Hunk complained

 

Lance huffed. “Well, your-”

 

“Lance, look.” Pidge said, looking up to the other side of the street.

 

“Oh my god, it’s like Sixteen Candles.” Hunk breathed, looking in the same direction.

 

Lance craned his neck around the bus stop sign. And there- standing there, on the other side of the rode stood-

 

“Keith.” It came out as a sigh. A relieved, incredulous sigh. Keith stood leaning on his motorcycle on the other side of the street. He waved. Stupidly, Lance turned his head to look behind himself. He looked back at Keith, who was smiling.

 

“Me?” He asked silently, pointing at himself. Keith laughed, and even though Lance couldn’t hear it, he could tell it was amazing.

 

“Oh my god, Lance. Stop living your Molly Ringwald fantasies and _get over there.”_ Pidge said. She looked annoyed, but Lance could tell she was as happy as Hunk was. Well...almost as happy. Hunk’s smile could have rivalled Lance’s own.

 

Lance ran across the street, dodging traffic. He thought he could hear a teacher yelling at him, but that was at the back of his mind. All he could think about was _Keith Keith Keith._

 

Butterflies in his stomach, fluttering fluttering fluttering. Lance allowed himself to acknowledge it. He allowed himself to acknowledge it all. The sweaty palms, the shortness of breath, the pounding, erratic heartbeat. It was real and he knew it and it was because he liked Keith. He liked Keith! Keith who was right here, smiling at him and leaning against his stupid (cool) bike. Keith and his dumb mullet and fingerless gloves. Keith who liked video games and who beat Lance at Voltron. Keith who smoked and delivered lines and kissed Lance under a thousand stars. It was like a critical hit to Lance’s heart and now here he was KO-ed and head over heels.

 

Lance had to swallow the butterflies and all of the things he wanted to say before opening his mouth. “Hey.” He said.

 

“Hey.” Keith replied.

 

“Where were you?” Lance asked. He scanned Keith’s face for signs of injury or sickness.

 

“I..uh, I had the flu.” Keith explained. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

 

“The flu?” Lance repeated. Now that he thought about it, Keith did look a bit like he was recovering from sickness. He looked paler than normal and his hair was less purposely messy and now just regularly messy (it didn’t make him look any worse though).

 

“Yeah, after uh,” Keith cleared his throat, “..that night, I got really sick. I have a kind of weak immune system.”

 

“A weak immune system…” Lance repeated incredulously. Suddenly, he punched Keith in the arm. “You _asshole!_ I was worried about you!”

 

Keith rubbed his arm, but smiled in an uncharacteristically goofy way. “You were?” He asked.

 

“Well...yeah.” Lance admitted. Keith looked away and coughed.

 

“You could’ve called.” Keith said.

 

Lance looked down, because he knew he could’ve. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve. I was just kind of…”

 

“Yeah. Me too.” Keith agreed. “Do you- do you want to get out of here?” Keith asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

 

“And go where?” Lance asked, catching on.

 

Keith leaned in close, close enough for his breath to hit Lance’s face when he whispered “It’s a surprise.”

 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Lance replied, grabbing the helmet hanging on Keith’s handlebars and put it on. He climbed onto the back of the bike and looked at Keith’s surprised expression. “You coming?”

 

Keith grinned and climbed onto the bike in front of Lance. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso, leaning his face against his back. When Keith was sure he was secure, he revved his bike and kicked off the ground, making a U turn onto the road. Lance glanced at the bus stop to where Hunk and Pidge were whooping and catcalling. He smiled despite himself, happy to be back here, with Keith, on the back of his bike going to god knows where.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t a long ride. Not long at all. It was only about ten minutes before Keith was pulling into the lot in front of the arcade, resting his foot on the ground and turning off the ignition. The bike rumbled to a stop and Lance unattached himself from Keith and hopped off, stretching his legs. He’d ridden the bike plenty of times before, but he still always felt a bit stiff afterwards.

 

Lance strolled up to the arcade window. It looked suspiciously dark and he couldn’t see anyone inside playing games. He couldn’t even see any games on. On the front door there was a sign.

 

**Arcade closed for new game installation.**

 

**Will be open on Sunday.**

 

“Uhhh, Keith? I think it’s closed.” Lance peered inside. “There’s no one in here.”

 

Keith came over and nudged Lance to the side. “I know that.” He said, reaching into his pocket. “But I’ve got the key.” He shook his keychain in front of Lance’s face before unlocking the door.

 

Lance followed Keith into the dark arcade. He never knew how noisy it usually was until it was silent. There were no games on, no groups of middle schoolers making bets around a console, no annoyed employee behind the desk in the back. It was almost creepy.

 

“Wow, this is weird.” Lance commented.

 

“I know, right? I’m pretty used to it since it’s always like this when I close up.” Keith said. He turned a corner, walking towards the back of the arcade. Lance tapped some of the buttons on the Atari Star Wars game. It didn’t respond (thank god. Lance would’ve screamed _so loud_ ).

 

“I’ve been wanting to show this to you ever since I was told it was coming in.” Keith was saying. “I was thinking maybe we could play together?”

 

Keith stopped in front of a game Lance had never seen before. Well, actually, he had seen it before, but just...not like this. It was Voltron- that was clear to see, from the five lions flying in formation on the top, the full body of Voltron on the side and Princess Fala in pink on the start screen explaining that she needed _him_ to defend the castle of lions. But something was different- there were two consoles instead of one- and Princess Fala was saying ‘both of you’ instead of just ‘you’.

 

“It’s a partner game.” Lance said, looking to Keith for confirmation. Keith nodded.

 

“You can either play together or against one another. But, if you play against each other one person has to play galra-”

 

Lance wrinkled his nose.

 

Keith laughed. “ _I know_.”

 

Lance went up to the machine and rubbed his hands over the panel. He could feel how new it was- it was missing the usual Cactus Cooler stickiness and it seemed to vibrate under his fingers.

 

“Let’s play.” He said, grabbing onto the right joystick. He looked over at Keith, who’s eyes were shining.

 

“Yeah.” He agreed, digging two quarters out of his pocket and shoving them into the machine. Lance pressed start and the game began with its usual opening scene of the castle being attacked. They chose their characters (Lance being the pilot of the blue lion, obviously, and Keith the pilot of the red) and proceeded to begin the game.

 

“Wow, look at these effects- they’re next level.” Lance said enthusiastically, dodging the shot from a nearby fighter ship.

 

“Mmmm, totally,” Keith grunted, hurriedly tapping the button that produced lazer-like shots. “Apparently there’s a bunch of new updates to the lions too, but I don’t know how to activate them yet.”

 

“I guess we’ll just have to keep playing then.” Lance said. “Hah, I beat you!”

 

Keith’s character was hit by a stray shot and the game ended.

 

“We’re playing together, asswipe, you’re supposed to defend me!” Keith exclaimed, turning towards Lance with fire in his eyes.

 

“I know! It’s not my fault you’re not _skilled_ enough to dodge that.” Lance teased back. Keith rolled his eyes.

 

“Rematch?”

 

“So you _do_ admit it’s a competition!”

 

“You’re such a-”

 

“Such a…”

 

“Whatever. Do you want to play or not?” He was already sliding the quarters into the slot and hitting start.

 

Lance could tell Keith wasn’t actually mad. In fact, he was so happy he was glowing. He looked so...so..

 

“Actually...Keith?”

 

“Yeah?” Keith asked, focusing on skipping the tutorials on the screen.

 

“I uh-” Lance gulped. If he was going to do it, it was going to be now, with blue light streaming over Keith’s face, highlighting his features, with the stupid voltron theme music playing out to the dark arcade, with Lance, high from being here with Keith knowing what he was going to do, no matter the result- it had to be now.

 

“Yeah?” Keith asked expectantly, turning his head towards Lance and away from the screen. He looked back as the game started. “Lance, grab your controls.”

 

Lance grabbed his controls and half focused on the screen. _Okay, okay, this is fine. This makes it easier...not completely really focusing._

 

“Lance, watch your left.”

 

Lance took a deep breath. And let it out. _Okay. “_ Keith, I really like you.” He said it all in one breath, fast and forced out. For a second it was bliss- a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could imagine Keith turning towards him and saying ‘Lance you idiot, I really like you too.”

 

And then that second ended and a new one began.

 

And Lance was freaking the fuck out. Keith hadn’t said anything for...10? 20? 30 seconds? _That’s a lot, right? He should have said something by now, right?_ The weight that had been lifted came crashing down, plus an added ten pounds of rejection.

 

Lance tried to breath in...out….in...maybe Keith just hadn’t heard him. Maybe he was just really focused on- _whoops, almost got hit-_ the game and didn’t even realise what Lance had said. Lance chanced a glance at Keith. He was standing, brow furrowed staring at the screen of the game. His hands were pressing the buttons into the deck and grasped white knuckled around the stick and yet his character remained stationary on the screen. Keith wasn’t moving.

 

“Hey Keith, are you-”

 

“Do you mean it?” Keith asked. He was still looking at the screen, watching as Lance’s own character came to a stop as Lance focused on Keith beside him.

 

“What? You mean- do I like you?” Lance asked. His face was burning. _Oh god, oh god, Keith doesn’t-_

 

“Yes. Do you-” Keith cleared his throat, finally looking at Lance. “Do you like me?”

 

Lance almost lied. He almost tripped over his words, scrambling to make an excuse, to add the word planetonic- platonic? Whatever- to say he only meant it in a friendly way- as friends….but he didn’t. The look on Keith’s face, in his eyes, stopped him. He looked...hopeful?

 

“Yes.” He said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and then took them out, dancing his fingers along the edge of the game. What do people usually do with their hands? He stuffed them back in his pockets. That was better. That would stop him from reaching over and taking Keith’s hands in his own and-

 

Breath….in....out….in….out

 

“I really like you.” He exhaled. An embarrassed laugh bubbled up from his chest.  “You’re insufferable. You’ve got those stupid gloves you always wear. You dress in all black even on the hottest days of the summer. You’re ridiculously smart. You’re a fucking beast at videogames,” Lance gestured to the screen. “You’re- you’re...amazing. I _really_ like you.” Lance took in a breath. “Romantically.” And exhale.

 

Keith was looking at him like he had sprouted two heads. And like that was a _good_ thing. Keith stepped forward, his eyes grazing over Lance’s face and down to his hands which were still stuffed him the pockets of his jacket. He looked like he wanted to say something, but something held him back.

 

Keith leveled his gaze. “Prove it.”

 

“W-what?” Keith was so close, Lance could hear him breath, see him breath, the way his chest moved in out in out. The game’s screen cast an array of colours, blue, red, flashes of purple, over their faces as their abandoned characters were being absolutely annihilated. Lance stopped trying to ignore the way Keith’s dark blue eyes seemed to shine violet in, _oh god,_ the most beautiful way.

 

“Prove. It.” It was said in a whisper, barely heard and barely passed through Keith’s lips before Lance was in his space, hesitating, and then not hesitating anymore before he pressed his lips softly against Keith’s.

 

Lance’s hands finally ( _finally)_ left his pockets and were reaching for Keith’s face, to cups his cheek, to tangle in the hair on the back of his head, to guide Keith’s chin to fit his better. Lance had never kissed a boy before- hell, he had never kissed a girl before. And it seemed like neither had Keith. It was messy, filled with nervous energy and bumping foreheads and clacking teeth. Lance pulled away to apologise when he bit Keith’s lower lip, but Keith pulled him right back in.

 

When they finally pulled apart, they didn’t go far. Lance rested his forehead on Keith’s and Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s waist, resting them on his hips.

 

“So…” Lance panted.

 

“So…” Keith responded. He giggled.

 

“You giggled.” Lance said. He couldn’t believe how hard he was smiling.  “I didn’t know you did that.”

 

“Shut up.” Keith said, standing back. He moved his hands down so that they were clasped with Lance’s.

 

“So was that-” Lance cleared his throat. “What that proof enough?”

 

Keith leaned him, planing a soft and short kiss on Lance’s lips. “I’d say.”

 

Lance smiled sweetly, looking down at their hands. He didn’t really know where they would go from here. He didn’t know exactly what this meant, for him, for them. That didn’t matter right now though. He squeezed Keith’s hand and smiled up at him. This is what matters right now.

 

This is what matters.

 

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**Game Over**

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks y'all for reading! Comments give me life~
> 
> Special shoutout to my awesome artist Pat who has been absolutely amazing!!! Find them at @merailla-art


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